A blog named BETTY

Our red carpet is green

2010-07-09T03:06:00.007-11:00

Ahhhhh, summer. Around here, it means staying up late, sleeping in late, visits to the Sno Shack (nothing but the best in parking lot cuisine for us) and gracing the park with our acute sniffing abilities. Oh, did I mention that we take the dog?

We have a GREAT park closeby. For Boozer, it's pretty much Nirvana. I'm thinking it's what he's dreaming about when he lies in the middle of our floor, snoozing, and his legs start running without him. (Not as good as the YouTube dog, but still entertaining.)

Partly because Boozer enjoys the park so much, we, his humans, think it's pretty great too. So here's a pictorial representation of a classic outing to the park:

We take turns walking the beast...

He does a little exploration...

And a little more...

And rinse and repeat until you're at the end of your rope...

Then there's this...

Oh, and A LOT of this...

We are basically a walking freak show, and it takes us FOREVER to get around the park, due to human curiosity. Every ten feet we're stopped by someone, and we take turns fielding the questions. I sound like I'm complaining (because, let's face it, that's pretty much my job), but we really enjoy it. And Boozer? He thinks he's Mick Jagger. He loves every second of the petting, the cooing, the 'can my child sit on his back?' (Well, not that so much, but he'll usually put up with it once or twice.)

And least you think it's all about the canine at the park, here's a great shot of one of our humans:

Yes, we love the park, and we're just egotistical enough to think that the park loves us. After all, would it shine like this for just anyone? I think not!

Time Warp

2010-04-25T11:58:00.006-11:00

Ya know how time flies when you’re having fun? Let’s be honest, time just plain flies. You don’t have to be having fun, although that’s a more…well..fun…option. We have lived here in this house for twelve years. My brain knows that that is a long time. My brain tells me that that’s longer than I’ve ever lived anywhere. My brain likes to point out that two of our four children have never lived anywhere else; and they’re not little kids anymore. HOWEVah, some other vital organ—probably my heart—will say that our house is fairly new, that we had all the kids when we moved here, that we look FORWARD to living here a long time.

THEN I COME ACROSS A PHOTO LIKE THIS:

and all of my innards are forced to comply with reality. Because here’s the exact same shot now:

I can't even get all of that tree in the picture now! And getting those two to hug was a little more difficult this time. I'm sure there was some pinching going on somewhere in there. But they're still cute, aren't they?

Why texting is for youngsters

2010-03-30T09:07:00.003-11:00

Several months ago, poor Shnookie4 went through a horrible week of consistent, severe headaches. Then they just disappeared. Until now. He's been in frequent pain for a couple of weeks now. On Sunday, I told him that if he wasn't better the next day, I'd call and make a doctor's appointment for him. I was at the fabric store the next day when I got a text from him saying he still felt rotten. I told him to tell Hubby and ask him to set an appointment.

I got home from the store, which is when Hubby told me about the appointment and all. Then he said, "Just so you know when you get there, I told them he needs his heart checked." Puzzled, I said, "Why in the world would you tell them that?" Well...evidently, Shnookie texted him the following message: "Dad, please call the doctor. I need him to look at my head." Hubby--not a huge texter and without glasses on--saw 'head' as 'heart.' And there you are. (However, when they asked what Shnookie's symptoms are, Hubby told them his head was really killing him.)

DUH-BULL-YOU DUH-BULL-YOU DUH-BULL-YOU

2010-01-20T14:28:00.001-11:00

Today I am angry with the world wide web. You may notice the irony in me using the world wide web as a vehicle to vent about the world wide web, but here’s where I’ll get to go “HA!” followed by a long explanation concluding with “I rest my case.”

After a long convoluted thought process the other night (yup—lost the remote again), I realized that I have lost a precious and significant portion of my life to the dummies who decided to call it the world wide web.

Think about it. Sure, it’s only 3 little syllables to utter aloud. World Wide Web. HOWEVER, who ever calls it by its whole name? We are, afterall a shortcut society who will use an acronym even when it takes longer than just saying the actual phrase. THUS, we end up using the longest letter in the alphabet--DUH-BULL-YOU—not once, but 3 times, over and over everyday all over the world.

Based on the statistic that 82% of statistics are made up on the spot, I feel confident saying that this waste of breath has robbed the average person of .75% of his or her life. That may only equal a month (or not…I can’t be bothered with math), but that’s a whole month one could spend playing Farkle.

Let’s face it…there are so many other names these buffoons could have given the web, even if they wanted to stick with the catchy alliteration. Global Guidance Generator…Cosmic Connection Circulator… Intercontinental Information Infuser. And that’s just off the top of my thesaurus.

In conclusion, I rest my case.

Be sure and tune into my next rant at ggg.ablognamedBETTY. com.

Here, have a fake cigar

2009-11-09T14:58:00.003-11:00

So, I participated in the "grandmother for a weekend" program. I don't want to brag, but I think I did pretty well. I should be ready to grandmother a real baby sometime in the next decade.

Shnookie2 is taking child development in school, and the pinnacle of that experience is being entrusted with a fake baby for a weekend. And when I say 'fake,' I mean fake on steroids. These babies have computers inside that simulate the craziness of motherhood pretty well. In fact, I think they may have surpassed the mark on discouraging teen pregnancy here--we'll be lucky if this generation will EVER have children after a weekend with these little gremlins.

As you may have guessed, this weekend was Shnookie's long-awaited turn with Robo Baby. She was hoping for an Asian boy, but ended up with a Caucasian girl (we've all been there). Of course, she was just thankful it was healthy. She named her Payton Shea Bishlack (which is the compound last name Shnookie's friends have started using for her to avoid the 2 last-names confusion). Please note that Payton is pronounced according the Utah dialect: no T... "Pay-en." (To hear Shnookie saying it like a Utahn over and over was somewhat disturbing. Then I realized that she has been raised in Utah, so what do I expect?? It's not like I can blame someone else! Not that I won't try...)

Here's a picture of Pay-en with her custodial parent. (She won't tell me who the father is, but I'm suspecting it's either one of those Old Navy mannequins or else Ken ((Barbie will be livid!))):

I think she has my nose. Speaking of which, the girls were playing the "I'm gonna steal your nose" game with her, and she didn't smile once. Hmph! Fake kids these days.

In case you haven't seen one of these babies, the rules are pretty much like Parenting 101. When it cries, try changing its diaper or feeding it or burping it. If you do the right thing, it will giggle once and then be quiet. HOWEVER, sometimes it just cries and there's nothing that will make it stop. That was a condition I was all too familiar with. This process goes on 24/7--right through the night.

The biggest concern when mothering one of these creatures is that you avoid abuse at all costs. You can't let its head tip back, or drop it, or shake it, etc, because it registers abuse in its little implant computer and its parent will have to answer for it. Protecting your charge sounds much more simple than it is, since humans seem to have an inordinate amount of macabre curiosity. Social situations--especially of the teenage boy variety--are a nightmare. Evidently, there is nothing more people would like to do than throw a plastic baby against the wall and see what happens. And the more Shnookie begged them not to hurt it, the more they wanted to see blood. I had to reassure Shnookie repeatedly that this phenomenon is unique to fake babies and she won't have to fight people off of her future real babies. We are an odd group, we humans!

So here's the visual that will stay with me from this experience: Me walking out of the chapel and seeing Shnookie2, holding her baby out in the foyer, right in the middle of a group of other mothers and their (real) babies. They were swapping stories. I kid you not!

And here's the audio I will remember, from a phone call: "MOM!! Come and get the baby! I'm in a meeting and she won't stop crying!!"

Well, I drove over to the meeting, picked up the baby, and thanked my lucky stars that I will never hear that phrase again from my teenage daughter.

And then I went home and put the baby in the dryer on fluff cycle. Just to see what would happen.

Things that go bump in the night

2009-10-20T09:39:00.004-11:00

We had a bit of excitement in the neighborhood last night. Unfortunately, we were at the center of it. And nary a single one of us even knew it at the time. There we were, going about our business, blissfully ignorant (like always). Personally, I was on this here machine, cursing the phone for its ringing, ringing, ringing while I was doggedly ignoring, ignoring, ignoring it. Next thing I knew, half the neighborhood was on our doorstep, knocking, knocking, knocking.

(Take note: when there's an emergency and you don't answer your phone, your neighbors will gather all their friends and come to your door.)

Through my dogged ignoringness, I hear my kids open the door (they just don't get the 'hit-the-floor-and-don't-move' policy we have for such occasions.), and I hear the words "car" "tree" and "Snookie1" float up to me. You can imagine how fast I threw down the laptop and flew downstairs. When I got the whole sentence, it went something this: "Shnookie1's car just rolled down the hill and hit our tree. He's not in it."

Okay, whew. But last I knew, Shnookie1 wasn't even home, so I was a wee bit confused. (Evidently,this is another disadvantage about holing up in your room with the laptop. Children come and go and live their lives without you.) Anyway, I found him in the shower (well, not literally). I was pounding on the bathroom door, yelling the situation through it. No doubt he only heard snippets like "your car" and "tree," because his "what?"s became more and more incredulous the more I yelled. Finally, I belted a "GET OUT OF THE SHOWER AND COME HERE!!!"

We live at the top of a curved incline. Somehow, Shnook's car started it's little journey ever so slowly, then picked up momentum on the hill, where it crossed the street, missed a shiny new truck by mere inches, went across a lawn and then met with a sturdy tree. If it had missed the tree, it would've continued straight into a house. And by then it would've been going at a pretty good clip.

By the time Shnookie1 and I got there, quite a crowd had gathered. Who knew that many people were out after dark on a Monday night?! I, of course, grabbed my camera before we left home. (I told myself it was for insurance purposes, but who am I kidding? I want to be able to remind him of this the rest of his life in visual form.)

Here's the scene: (Shnook isn't slumped over; he's bending over to see the ignition.)

And here's how the tree looks:

I think everyone will live.

We're still not sure exactly how the car got a'rollin. It's always parked in the same place, and it's never happened before. Shnook is pretty sure he had it in park, but who knows. My theory? The Headless Horseman moved to town recently and is chaffing from too much time in the saddle. He saw a sweet ride (he's headless--he can't see well) with cushy seats and took off in it. Obviously, it's the only logical conclusion.

A Most Excellent Adventure

2009-09-29T10:44:00.010-11:00

So, I took me a little jaunt to Washington DC a few weeks ago. I was accompanied by my dear friend, Merrie, which was fun just in itself. And also well-balanced, because she's a democrat and I'm a republican. These things matter in DC. We stayed at her friend, Matt's, place, which was only a skip and a jump away in Arlington, VA. Well, unless you get lost, and then it can be a skip, a 2-hour loop, and then a jump away.

Okay, so it happens that we spent A LOT of our time lost. I prefer to call it 'forced exploration.' I'd never been there before, and getting lost afforded me the pleasure of seeing so many things! (Sometimes the same thing. Over and over. DC has a lot of loops!) For instance, the first day we were supposed to be headed South, to Matt's place, when we turned a corner and BAM! there is the Washington Monument looming over us. Oops, that would be North, but WOW! I was so excited! I get a little flusterpated when I see real things that I've seen in books, so I spent a lot of time hyperventilating (but mostly on the inside. don't want to cause a scene!).

There's really too much to tell, but I must share one story. Merrie and were resting on a bench by the Lincoln Memorial, and this squirrel jumped up onto the lamp post right beside me. "Great photo opp!" I'm thinking, "Who knows when I'll be that close to a squirrel again?" Here he is, cute, cute, cute!

Next thing I know, Merrie has pulled out a Milano cookie, and that critter jumps into my lap to get it. It was a bit of a shock, but at least I was coherent enough to point and click.

That right there just proves what anyone/thing will go through to get a Milano.

When I talked to Shnookie3 that night, I said I had something cool to tell her. So I told her the story about Mr. Squirrel. She said, "I thought you were going to tell me that you walked by Obama or something!" So I'm thinking the squirrel is kinda lame compared to that. But then she says, "But this is WAY better!" That right there says how much kids admire politicians these days, don't ya think?

Another story: Merrie got it into her head that we needed to make our husbands believe that we found boyfriends out there (besides Mr. Squirrel). So she was on the outlook for some suitable candidates the whole day we were at the American Mall. It was a great day for characters, since it was the day that all those conservatives came to picket Obama at the capital. All sorts of people were carrying signs and wearing t-shirts. Poor Mr. Obama...he was not popular in that crowd!

Anyway, toward the end of our day, Merrie spots these 3 guys, wearing matching red, white & blue flag shirts and cowboy boots. Zing went the strings of her heart, I guess, because she just had to get her picture taken with them. Here they are with her:

That right there says that even a card-carrying democrat loves her a bunch of red, white & blue blooded republicans! :)

Soon after this, we were ready to walk to our car. On our way, we saw a cool structure and took some pics there. Merrie was down, laying ON the GROUND, taking pictures of me in front of it, when these same patriot hotties happen to walk up! Okay, so it's a total coincidence, but we prefer to tell ourselves that our incredible magnetism pulled them that way. And they jump in the pictures, this time with me. And apparently, the photo opp with Merrie got them riled up, cause they really came out of their shells for this batch!
That's Mr. Cowboy Hat's tongue reaching toward my ear. Yup.
Ohhhhh, I haven't laughed that hard in awhile. That right there proves how silly grown people can get when they're high on America.

Finally, I have to say that I got to see more art in REAL LIFE, which makes me super, super flusterpated! We went to the National Museum of Art, and it was amazing! I about passed out when they told me I could take actual pictures inside of the museum! Yes, I brought the whole museum home with me on my camera. But here's just 3 of my favorites:

Seeing this painting (by Fragonard) in real life really took my breath away. A copy of it hung in the RS room in the church where I grew up, and I've always loved it. The richness of the color and brushstrokes is astounding in the original.

By Matisse
by Degas. It's the only sculpture he ever put in an exhibition. It's quite stunning.

I really enjoyed this trip. The weather was gorgeous, and I loved how lush the area is. But most of all, I was happy to share it with Merrie. She's so open to new experiences and fun-loving and friendly and easy-going and just a delight! Where we goin next, Mer??

Skack to Bool

2009-08-26T16:43:00.003-11:00

I did some back-to-school shopping for BETTY. After all, it's hardly fair to spend on everyone else and leave her out. Doesn't she look fetching? Poor thing hasn't had a new look in ages. Why, it's tantamount to blog abuse. Anyone know a support group she can go to?

And speaking of back-to-school, the shnookies are...well...back to school! It's a pretty big year for all of them, with #1 starting his SENIOR year, #2 starting her first year in high school, #3 being top of the heap in 6th grade, and #4 launching into 4th grade--the signal of her downward trip in grade school. Oh my, I think I lost an inch just thinking about it--I am an old woman! (See how that works? I started out talking about them, but it always ends up about me.)

And speaking of me, I have to admit that it was a heavenly day for me. With the kids back in school and Hubby out of town, I had the whole house (except for the 6X6 area occupied by Boozer) to myself. I savored, I basked, I reveled. And then I went inside and put my clothes back on.

An Affair to Remember

2009-08-07T07:56:00.000-11:00

I have to say, I am feeling sorry about saying goodbye to July. It is my dear friend, and I hate that I only get to see it once a year. Oh, we always promise to stay in touch, but by January, I can barely even remember its face. Come the end of February, I’ve been known to curse its name for abandoning me so completely. Luckily, I’m a born forgiver, and when July finally shows its face again, I’m there with open arms. I throw it a party, complete with all the fanfare and fireworks.

Our time together this year (as always) has been delightful. Oh, of course we have our tiffs—July can get a little hot and bothered at times, and I get all red in the face and huffy—but that’s how it is with relationships. We still part friends and only remember the good times.

I know that the majority of Americans put Christmas at the top of their friend list, but I much prefer the 4^th of my best friend, July. Sure, I enjoy Christmas as much as the next guy—its pageantry, its coziness, and all of its festive activities. Beyond that, however, the relationship feels a bit one-sided. Christmas demands that I do A LOT of work to keep the love alive. Shopping, baking, shuttling, concerting…the demands just go on and on. It’s all a little high-maintenance for me. Call me selfish, but I much prefer being at the receiving end of my relationships. All that July 4^th requires of me is to slap down a few lawn chairs and stir up some lemonade. In return, I’m showered with warm breezes, dazzling fireworks overhead, and giggling children running around with their sparklers.

I’m pretty much convinced that July loves visiting Draper, Utah the best. Besides the obvious attraction of *ME* being here, it knows how we like to prolong the July 4^th feeling into extra innings. Toward the middle of the month, we break out the fireworks for the illustrious Draper Days, followed shortly thereafter by Pioneer Day, another celebration smacking of good ole patriotism. The whole month is literally crackling with excitement.

And so it is with great sadness that I bid farewell to my BFF, July. At least we part knowing that we've made the most of our time together and have wasted nary a moment; in fact, we had not one single tiff this year. I found July to be even more delightful than usual, with a cool temperament that pleased me to no end.

As a tribute to my dear friend, here are a few pics of the glorious time we had together this year:

A beautiful, full-mooned 4th of July at home:

Many Taylor Swift-themed garage-band concerts :

Some fun home improvement projects:

Shnookie3 discovering a love of tennis:

Draper Days, with its concerts, friends, face-painting, and the best (free) fireworks in the Rockies:

Potted plants that actually thrived for once!:

The chicken that got transplanted onto our street:

Being roped into a spray tan party (don't ask):

Soccer camp with Dean from the U.K.:

And more swimming parties than I can count (thanks to Lisa and her amazing pool!):

An early lesson in gender differences

2009-07-09T07:03:00.000-11:00

I have a friend a few blocks over who has a pool. A gorgeous pool with waterfalls and a waterslide, all built-in amidst the almost-real rock cliffs that surround it. Lucky for us, she is a very generous friend and has extended an open-pool invitation for every Wednesday afternoon. Unlucky for us, she's trying to sell the gorgeous home with the gorgeous pool. But then again, lucky for us, the housing market has bottomed out here and she can't get a decent price for all of that gorgeousness. (For some reason, she doesn't to see that as lucky. Go figure.)

Lucky for you, I'm done with all the lucky/unluckydness.

Yesterday, being Wednesday, we went to said friend's said pool, and it was wonderful! The great part about her pool as opposed to the pool at our gym is that the girls have their friends to play with. (Which is why it's like pulling teeth to get my girls to go swimming at the gym. Me: "We are going swimming and that is THAT." Poor, tortured girls. But that's another story...)

So, the pool population yesterday consisted of 4 girls and 4 boys. They had a double bed floaty thing in there, which the girls got to be on first. So they all decided to play a game: the boys try to steal the floaty thing from the girls. And here's how it went:

Girls: "You boys try and get the floaty from us."
Boys attack.
Girls scream: "NO, NO, NOOOOO. WAIT!!! You boys go to that end of the pool and plan how to attack. We girls go to this end of the pool and plan how to keep you off. Then we meet in the middle."
All pause momentarily.
Boys attack.

My FFA Father Would Be Proud

2009-07-07T11:11:00.000-11:00

I am a farmer. There, I said it. Like the good men and women who fostered our great land in its infancy, I till the earth and harvest its bounties for the nourishment of all mankind. And just like my forefathers, I get very little respect for all of my labors. In fact, I am mocked and ridiculed. . . IN MY OWN HOME.

Why is it that the tradition of farming is not appreciated and revered like it should be? What would man be without the fruits of the land to sustain him?

If you are appalled as I am regarding this injustice to hard-working, honest farmers everywhere, then stand up and be heard. Write my husband and tell him that he should support and praise me, perhaps even till the earth side-by-side with me once-in-while. End the ridicule and tell him that “YES! Once and for all, online farming IS real farming!!!”

Are you with me??

It rocks to be a Williams!

2009-07-01T13:57:00.000-11:00

Like I said earlier, we had the Williams Family Reunion a couple of weeks ago. It's a three night event, once every two years, and this just happened to be our year to be in charge. (I can't really complain, since cancer bought me several years of being skipped over. Just one of the many perks.) My brother, Randy, and his wife, Cheri, were very kind in offering to help throughout the whole process. We found the most amazing inn up at Bear Lake where all 64 of us could sleep under one roof!

It had 17+ rooms in it, each with its own bathroom, jacuzzi tub, fireplace and TV. It had a pool, as well as a large sports field. Honestly, once we found that place, I was much less stressed about the activities side of the reunion. I knew that if nothing else, we could just hang out there and be happy! In fact, with such an unusually rainy June, it was up-in-the-air as to whether or not we'd even be able to be outside! Fortunately, we totally lucked out, and didn't get rained out on any of our activities. Very amazing, considering it poured and poured in Salt Lake the whole time. (In fact, we came home to news-making flooding situations all around us in Draper.)

We all went to Minnetonka Caves, which was really quite impressive. Here's some of my great-nephews and nieces. (Yes, they are all great in the wonderful sense, but they are also great in the 'children of my nieces and nephews sense,' just so there's no confusion.)

And here's a shot of the family:

The last full day, we had five Somalie refugees children come (Thanks Paul and Merrie!!) and hang out with us. They went on a hike with us and swam and ate and played games. Here's our friend Said (Sigh-eed) with Shnookies 1&2 on the hike:

And here's my niece, Alisha, walking with little Imbio:

And speaking of Imbio (7 yrs old), it turns out that she and her little sister, Isha (4 yrs old), LOVE to swim. Unfortunately, they have no idea HOW to swim. And even more unfortunately, this does not stop them from jumping into the deep end, over and over again. Apparently, while I was napping, they had to be saved from drowning several times. Thanks Ashlee and Shnookies!

The funniest thing that happened at the reunion (and there were many!) was when my mom was telling us about being pulled over by the police the day before. She's describing how she was lost and not paying attention, and then she says this: "So, after the policeman tasered me..." In the pause she took for a breath, we all got the same picture in our head, and then the laughing erupted. Oh my gosh, I haven't laughed that hard for a long time. She meant to say he metered her with the laser gun, but... I still chuckle when I think about it.

The sweetest thing that happened at the reunion (again, out of many) was when my two oldest brothers each did one of my dad's readings--Foolish Questions and Casey at the Bat. These are something my dad was asked to do on many social occasions, and certainly at every reunion. Randy and Marc worked hard to prepare, and they both did great. I was amazed they could get through without choking up. I know the rest of us were. It's still hard to believe he's not with us. Maybe because he is.

I loved everything about this reunion. For me, waking up and running into a brother or sister out in the hall was like heaven. The little kids ran around and played, and it was fun to interact with them. Everyone seemed comfortable, and it was just a joy. I had lots of help, so once the whole thing was under way, I was able to relax and take it all in. I'm exhausted now (still), but I would do it again in a heartbeat!

Hard to Believe

2009-06-20T11:30:00.000-11:00

We got back from my family reunion today, and it was wonderful. I will probably need to sleep for 2 days straight, but it's a small price to pay. I've got tons of great pics and memories to share, but that will be for another post. The 2nd day of the reunion we got word that my mother-in-law, Dixie passed away. She was 90 years old, and of course you expect those things to happen, but it was still such a shock. She's been a big part of our lives for the last couple of years. It's just hard to believe she's gone.

Having this happen while we were miles away at the reunion seemed like horrible timing at first (not that there IS a good time for death, of course...), but I think being surrounded by so much family was good for us. Everyone was very supportive. Even Hubby, who was surrounded by non-blood relatives (NBRs--sorry Mom, but I think it should stay) seemed to be buoyed up. We had to pull the kids out of their fun activities to tell them, and it was very emotional. Having cousins to go back to really helped them.

Saying "She's in a better place now" is certainly one of those trite but true statements for Dixie. I know people mean heaven when they say that; in this case, however, it's more than just that. Dixie was pretty much 'lost' for the last 4 years...lost in a world of confusion that robbed her of a lot of joy. How wonderful it must be for her to once again be the spunky, articulate woman she was...to be able to HEAR again, and to see things as they really were and are without that fog of confusion and mistrust that had plagued her recently. It makes me smile to think of her up there, re-connecting with her loved ones, and mixing it up with the locals. It was probably a day to remember for the staff at the pearly gates!

I've often wondered if I'd be heavy with regret when she passed on. I wasn't always so patient with her, and there were times the frustration with her illness overshadowed the love. I'm happy to report that--so far, anyway--I'm just reminded of the good times and grateful to have been a part of them. I'm sad that they've ended, and still in a little shock.

Checking our caller ID today, I saw the call from her care center to give us the news, and then just 2 calls before that, a call from her. That's how it feels when you lose someone you love...they're there, and then suddenly they're just not. It reminds me again of what a blessing it is to know the bigger picture. It doesn't take away the sting, but it certainly pads the void.

Here's to you, Mom!

Yeah, He's Biggish

2009-05-26T13:29:00.000-11:00

I was wondering yesterday how many times a week I hear the term 'big dog.' Usually, I hear it in this sentence: "That is a BIG dog!" A lot of times I hear just a snippet of someone's sentence as they pass by, but that snippet always contains 'big' and I know what they are talking about. My favorite is when a car drives by and a big-eyed someone sees him. They're yelling at everyone else in car, and through their open window, it sounds something like this: "look at that big dog! It's huge!!"

I was out working in the front yard this weekend. I'm right there next to the road, and Boozer is resting in the shade. A car is going by, when it suddenly slows way down. I think "Oh look! It's our neighbors! They want to stop and say hi!" and I start waving and walking toward the car. That's when I see an unfamiliar man and woman in it, and they aren't looking at me. They and their dropped jaws are looking at the dog. He's behind a bunch of flowers and tucked back in the shadows, but somehow they saw him. I might as well be a potted plant. Hmph! I guess I should be glad that they're amazed by his incredible size, and not by mine!

We think Boozer is getting close to his final stature, but it's hard to tell. His breed can grow for up to 2 years, and he's only 18 months old. We haven't weighed him lately, but I'd guess he's around 150 lbs. That officially makes him the heaviest in our household. Add that to hairiest, hungriest, smelliest, mellowest. On a good day (when he hasn't chewed up, sneezed on, trampled over or vomitted on something I treasure), I'd have to also give him the cutest. Cute, ya know, in a ginormous drooling sort of way.

Here he is last night, after we all got home. He was so happy to see us, so he was running around like a madman, er dog.

Bahama Mama Checks In

2009-04-23T10:06:00.000-11:00

I have been on a once-in-a-lifetime adventure. It’s been 2 weeks since we’ve been home, and yet I have not blogged about it. Here is why: I’m overwhelmed. It’s just too big to encapsulate, YKWIM? So I’ve hoped that by waiting awhile, it’d distill down to a single blog post nugget. Well, it hasn’t. But I’m willing to try finally.

Our whole family went to the Bahamas over spring break. It was awesome. The End.

All sorts of people ask “How was your trip to trip to the Bahamas?” And I say it was awesome. That’s pretty much all you can say unless the person has an hour to kill. One of my friends asked that exact question, and then immediately said “That’s a stupid question. It’s like asking ‘Are cookies yummy?’ We all know the answer. No one says ‘The trip was awful.’” Exactly.

So let’s just review some photos. You have an hour to kill, right??
First, you need to know the setting. Here’s our hotel, Atlantis on Paradise Island. It’s on the island of Nassau, Bahamas (technically New Providence Island, but no one calls it that). Paradise Island is actually an island off of Nassau, connected by a bridge. Pretty much the whole island is taken up by the Atlantis Resort. That baby is H-U-G-E. Here is a pic from our first foray out onto the beach. In it, you can see just one of the six separate hotels that make up the resort.

You’ll also notice nary a cloud in the sky. Beyond perfect weather the whole time: low of 70, high of 84. Yummy.

I lost track of how many swimming pools there were, but this is the one closest to us. It was right off the beach, so we didn’t spend much time there. Why would you when you can be on the BEACH, afterall. But isn’t it pretty?

Attached to this swimming pool was the most gorgeous lazy river I’ve ever seen. I told Hubby--who has been pushing a backyard swimming pool since the beginning of time—that I would agree to that lazy river in our yard. But he’d have to recreate it EXACTLY as it is, including all the birds and tropical flowers.

Near that lazy river is a waterfall we passed every day, but then we passed hundreds of these every day--the whole resort is lush and groomed to the nth degree.

Right by that waterfall is a couple of ponds—one with giant sea turtles, and one with stingrays. At certain times on certain days, a little worker guy (he’s actually normal size, not little) comes out and feeds the aquatic creatures. He gives an awesome presentation about the species, and then he lets the kids actually feed them. Here’s the stingrays. And while I was taking this pic, Shnookie3 was on the other side letting one eat a fish out of her hand. I guess the cameraman can’t be everywhere at once, dangit!

Speaking of stingrays, all of the kids were quite taken with the sight of them. The main part of the resort has a huge underwater observatory where you can see every type of aquatic creature imaginable, and the kids loved it. Their favorite thing was the humongous stingrays, some of which were as big as our dining room. I got a cute pic of a small one, where you can see it’s little face. Isn’t it sweet??

The night life was a lot of fun—once we found it, lol. They had plenty of restaurants right at the resort, some of which didn’t cost a second mortgage. (It was astonishing how much everything cost. Our kids were always trying to order water and salads to save on money!) So we’d go down to this market village part of the resort every night, eat, and soak in the atmosphere. Here the kids are rockin out, Bahamian style.

And here’s a cute family pic in the village. I know my eyes are so small it’s hard to tell if they’re open on a good day, so I’ll just tell you that, yes, they are closed. And I could shoot myself, cuz everyone else looks so good! I’ll have to push my photoshop skills to the limit and see what I can do about that.

They have a giant waterslide park right there at the resort, which is free to all guests, and that was a huge hit! I didn’t get any photos, since I love my camera and do not want it at the bottom of a wild rapids ride. Just trust me that we took full advantage and had a great time. (And only a little bit of sunburn, miracles of miracles.)
After the water park, we found a snorkeling place, so went snorkeling with the two oldest shnookies. Man, do I love snorkeling!! And here’s the two shnookies AFTER the waterpark and snorkeling. I just can’t see this picture without cracking up. I think I see a little drool hanging from Shnook1’s lip. LOL We were all pretty tired that day!

On Easter, we decided to attend the local LDS branch, which turned out to be such a wonderful experience! The people were so friendly--met us at the sidewalk en masse even! The PA system didn’t work, so we hardly heard anything, but we felt a lot. It reminded Hubby and I of our missions and got Shnookie1 a little excited for his. Here we are at the local branch meeting house:

(I cropped this picture, since there was a lot of tree and sky above us; nevertheless, this is the best photo we had taken when a Bahamian was behind the camera. We learned quickly to ask a tourist to take our pictures, because centering is apparently NOT high on the locals’ skill set!)
And finally…the beach. Ahhhhh, there is nothing better. And here’s some of my favorites taken seaside:

We were in the Bahamas for six days, and I think we used our time well. I could’ve probably used one more day just to hang at the beach and pools, but whoever gets enough of paradise, right?? The trip was full of a lot of new experiences, wonder, laughs, adventures, and culture. But this is the best part:

It was full of a lot of the affection and care that makes a family what it is. And that is why we went. And that is what I’ll remember the most.

Hopefully he'll be an heir to the tennis shoe fortune

2009-04-02T06:24:00.000-11:00

Last night, Shnookie4 shared some more of her future plans with Hubby. It turns out, she already knows her future husbands name. It shall be .... Zeke Puma.

Bear in mind, we do not know any Pumas, nor any Zekes for that matter. I do not know where she came up with this mystery man. What I do know is that it's a good thing for me, in that she will not get married until she's 40. It will take her at least that long to find a man with that exact random name. A wise parent would probably advise her to aim for something more common...maybe a Michael Smith...but who am I to tamper with the inspiration given to a 9 year old girl?

And we have more information on the Puma's future home. It will be filled with five little Pumas, all with their own rooms, the decor of each having already been determined. As for Mr. Puma, his room will be a baseball room. Mrs. Puma? A jungle room. Hubby's response: "But won't you two share a room?"

Shnookie: "No, we will have separate rooms."
Hubby: "But won't Zeke be sad not too share a room with you?"
Shnookie: "TOO BAD."

Our Little Planner

2009-03-30T05:37:00.000-11:00

Shnookie4 has reached that ripe old age of nine, where you start to look ahead and plan in minute detail the next 72 years of your life. Isn't your nine-year-old doing that? (Heck, I have a 17-yr-old who struggles to plan the next 72 MINUTES of his life.)

The other night, Hubby was tucking Shnookie4 into bed, and she says:

"I've been making some plans. When I grow up I want a nice house. Nothing too big, but just kinda big. (Describes every detail of the backyard)I want to decorate the house so that it's colorful but not too flashy. Like I want a room in two main colors, with just a hint of a third color."

Do you thing HGTV is on too much in our house?

Then a few days ago, after school, she tells me:

"Mom, I've decided that when I grow up, I want to be a genius in college."

I'm so glad she's pacing herself. There's just no use wasting genius on public school. She's gonna save it for the big leagues.

Once again, Target changes my life

2009-03-21T11:28:00.000-11:00

So I got one of my wild hairs the other day. I was actually at the doctor with my mother-in-law, Dixie, and I was reading about organization in a magazine. It suggested keeping a folder with you of little things you need to do--thank you notes, bills, etc--so that if you're waiting somewhere (oh say, at a doctor's office), you can get those little things done. The lightbulb went on, which in turn triggered a wild hair, and I was at Target that very afternoon looking for that very thing. What I found was PERFECTION, and I don't just throw that word around lightly. Perfection for me entails the following formula:
something even better than I'd envisioned in my wildest dreams
+
the possibility of embellishing
+
off the clearance rack.

She shoots, she scores!!
These beauties were all of the above, cardboard and canvas portable file purse-like thingys. (Yes, that's what the label said. Prove me wrong.) I was prepared to use them straight off the shelf, but those cardboard sides screamed at me "paper me, embellish me, make me all that I can be!" (These are obviously file thingys with some military tendencies.)

So, I did.

I made one for my neighbor for her b-day, and one for me, and one more because I just couldn't stop myself. And now a picture:

I am going to fill mine with not only the things they suggested, but also those random magazines/catalogs that are just too cool to throw away before looking through, and the school newsletters I need to read, and all of the other stuff I never seem to get to. (maybe the dishes??) Then when I'm waiting in the car for a kid to get out of practice, I can whip something out, do it, and feel triumphant.

That mom driving down the street in her minivan with a smug smile on her face? That will be me.

867-530ni-i-ine.....plus 1 80wu-uh-uh-n

2009-03-12T08:03:00.000-11:00

It has happened to Utah. We now have to dial 1+our area code to call our next door neighbors. It’s such a pain! Seriously, now it’s more efficient to just run next door rather than dial ALL ELEVEN DIGITS. And it’s even worse for me, because I just cannot adapt. So I end up dialing EIGHTEEN digits by the time I dial the old way, get the ‘wee-WEE-wee I’m sorry…” lady, and re-dial the new way. It’s been like ten days since they made the change, and I’m still doing it wrong 90% of the time! Do you realize how many precious minutes of my life have been wasted by this conspiracy?

Let me just admit right here that numbers are not my friends. I can remember the name of every dog in a 6-block radius, but do not expect me to retain anything number-oriented in my brain. Thus, it takes me FOR.EV.ER to learn a new phone number. I’ve had the same cell phone for 3 years, and I still have to ask my kids for the number. If someone tells me a phone number and I have to dial it 2 seconds later, I will get every digit wrong. Hubby changed his work number five months ago, and I never call him, because I CAN’T REMEMBER THE NUMBER. (Hmm…this sheds some light on WHY he changed the number…)

OK, so I believe I have established that I am number challenged. Add this area code debacle into the mix, and I’m practically paralyzed. You know how you spend 5 minutes looking up a number and then close the phone book while it’s dialing? Yup. I get the ‘I’m sorry…’ lady every time and have to start all over. I’m a mess. My kids are going hungry, I don’t have time to shower, and I’ve lost all of my money to the swearing jar.

AND IT’S NOT JUST ME!! My own mother didn’t call me for a week, because she’d had me on speed dial and couldn’t find my number! (Which is why, BTW, I never put anyone on speed dial—if I do, I’ll never be forced to remember their number and I’ll be unable to contact them in an emergency. As I’ve plainly demonstrated, this is just such an emergency.) Our friends live in a gated community, and no one could get in or out for a couple days until they re-programmed the gate for their new phone numbers. SEE?? These things have global repercussions! It’s no coincidence that the economy started tanking at the exact same moment the state of Utah hatched this inane plan.

If you’d like to discuss this matter at length, give me a call. I’d call you but, well………duh!

!!YADHTRIB YPPAH

2009-03-02T04:35:00.000-11:00

Shnookie4 turned the ripe old age of nine this week. Despite all of the begging, guilt-tripping, subliminal images and unwilling hypnotism, the child just will not conform to my anti-growing wishes. I don't know what to do with her!! I just can't get through to her, and I'm at my wits end. She's even resisting now when I swaddle her and rock her to sleep at night with a bottle. I blame it on that public school we send her to. They are just way too liberal with their 'grow up and be yourself' dribble.

So we threw a big party for the rebellious child. It was a backwards party, and the TEN girls she invited had a great time. The mom did not. I NEVER have let the kids invite more than seven friends to their parties, because...well...I'm just not THAT mom. I know my limitations (see last post about terrorizing innocent children). It was a weak moment when I told Shnookie4 she could invite all 10 of her friends. It was Tuesday...the party was Friday...and I was sure that most of them would not be able to come. Apparently, these are 8-yr-olds with very little on their plates, because there they were--every single one of them--amped up on sugar and ready to par-teh. Here they are in a rare physically restrained moment (you can't tell, but all of their mouths were still working a million miles a minute):

We played 'pin the donkey on the tail,' silent chairs (walk around the chairs in silence, sit when the music STARTS), backwards relays, ate the upside-down cupcakes UNDER the table, said 'goodbye' instead of 'hello,' and all sorts of other silliness. Of course, the kids thought it was great fun to tell me 'yes' when they meant 'no' and let me try to figure out what they meant. I was so over that within minutes!

It was wild. One of the gentler, meeker souls that attended the party literally ran out the door when her mom came to pick her up. The mom was inside talking to me, and her daughter was out in the car, buckled up and ready to jet. It was that crazy of a party.

Now we just have to send out the thank-you invitation notes (because we sent out the thank you notes as invitations--written backwards of course. It's all backwards--get it?) and it will all be behind me.

That was Friday, and on Saturday, we had a much more relaxed day. We had our Somalie friends, Rugia and Fatuma come stay the day with us. They are sisters who were relocated in Utah from a Somalian refugee camp. (I can't imagine two places more different than Somalia and Utah, but it is what it is, I guess!) We went swimming and the girls played a lot of Wii, and they seemed to have a great time. Aren't they gorgeous??

And in my spare time I torture puppies

2009-02-28T14:53:00.000-11:00

I have had one of those do-everything-all-at-the-same-time-and-then-do-some-more weeks. It’s like everyone else’s calendars read “if you have something to do that involves Erin, plan it for this week.” It’s a giant conspiracy, I tell ya. (It’s not being paranoid if it’s true, btw.)

At the very least, the grade school had it out for me, because I had 3 major commitments there, two of which required me to teach and herd boatloads of children. I’m pretty sure they’ll never invite me back, based on how grouchy I was by the third visit. I know there’s one 5th grade boy in particular who will sleep with one eye open from now on.

Good place to insert soapbox… Why is it that so many of today’s kids think they rule the world? I’m no “kids should be seen and not heard” person (well…55% of the time), but really—-do they have to talk ALL of the time? And with that much attitude? I swear there are too many parents who are literally afraid of their kids, and can’t say “Hey, maybe when an adult speaks to you, you shouldn’t mock them to their face.” Well, those parents better sleep with one eye open too, cause I’ve got their number. That’s right, world wide web, I’m calling out wimpy parents everywhere.

Okay, raise your hand if you’re never leaving me alone with your kids again. (Heck, I've got my own hand raised. This chic is s-c-a-r-y.)

Stalker Mom Hits Paydirt

2009-02-15T05:22:00.000-11:00

I know I've mentioned before that my oldest child is not much into communication...at least not with us. Judging by his texting record, he knows how to do it--A LOT.

Let's be honest, though, how teens text can hardly be called communication. "You suck." "No, You suck." "No YOU suck" "Huh-uh" "Uh-huh" and so on. (And oops--I actually included punctuation there for a second. As if.) I've texted with my son. He answers most of my queries with "You would" or "Maybe" as in:

(Me) I need you to come home for dinner.
(Him) You would
(Me) So you'll be home at 6:00?
(Him) Maybe
(Me) I'm going to be upset if you're not here.
(Him) You would

(To be fair, he always does what I ask him to, so I enjoy his sarcastic little answers. I might even do the same to him. But admitting all of that would ruin my point, so let's pretend this paragraph doesn't exist.)

When I succumbed to the Facebook pressure, I hesitantly sent a friend invitation to my son. I could just picture him cringing at the thought of letting his mom into this corner of his life. I was pleasantly surprised when he accepted my invitation right away (not with any fanfare, mind you--there was no "Look everyone! My mom's here! Hooray!!!).

Having access to my son's Facebook wall has opened up a whole new world of deep communication for us. He's pretty diligent about updating his status on there. Sure, most of the time what he posts makes absolutely no sense (which is the way he likes it IMHO.), such as this one: "Shnookie 1 is rain master." Ooooookaaaaay...

HOWEVER, a lot of the time I get more out of his little one-liner synopses than I could ever gather from 3 sentences of forced face-to-face conversation. For example, yesterday I bopped on over there and found this little gem: "Shnookie 1 is happy with everything that's going on." Whoa. That's just too much information for mom to handle--especially in complete sentence format. He almost sounds--dare I say it--like an actual mature person.

(I wonder where he learned sarcasm?)

It is rather ridiculous how happy Shnook 1's statement made hubby and me. If you have one of those 'can't shut them up' teenage boys (I'm sure they're out there...somewhere...maybe?), this might not make sense to you. But for ME, I'm walking on air. It's the most revealing conversation he and I have had all year.

In Potty News...

2009-02-09T12:56:00.000-11:00

I am finally ready to post a picture of an entire remodeled room. We've done so much, but I hate sharing a room until it's all done, and...well...that's a difficult concept for me. I can't think of a single room in my house that I consider 'done,'and I've been at it for 11 years. (Wait--my master closet is done. But don't ask for a picture of it. I said it was done...that doesn't mean it's clean.)

Okay, so the big whole room I'm ready to show is our powder room. (Ya know--baby steps.) And it's not done. (Surprise.) I still have to hang some art, but I can't wait that long.

Now, keep in mind that this was Boozer's room for the first 8 months of his life, so it was trashed (thus the remodel). Try not to be frightened. Okay, so here's the before:

And here--ta dum, ta dum--is the after:

I know the bright colors aren't for everyone, but wow, do I love them!! We're all a little overly giddy about the whole thing, but when you consider that we haven't been able to use this bathroom--our only main floor potty--for a year, it's a tad more understandable. It's a long hike up or down a flight of stairs when ya gotta go, KWIM?

The moral of today's post? If you want a new bathroom, move a massive puppy into it, wait a year, and viola!

A flash into the future

2009-02-07T06:07:00.000-11:00

This week, Shnookies 3 and 4 participated in a 3-day dance clinic put on by our high school's drill team. They got to perform at half-time of the school's basketball team last night. Look how cute they are!:

I was so proud of them! They both worked really hard and had a lot of fun. And in true girl fashion, it took them 2 hours before the performance to do their hair and make-up. My bathroom looks like a war zone this morning. We are sooooo in for it.

Angels on the Moon

2009-02-04T12:19:00.000-11:00

My friend, Jill, tagged me on Facebook for this fun little quiz/game. You put your iPod on shuffle, go to the first quiz question, and whatever song starts playing on your iPod, you use for the answer. I had way too much fun doing this. I'm sure it would take like 2 minutes for someone with a REAL iPod (i.e., on that has a screen where you can read the song title and artist.); however, I just have an iPod shuffle--no screen. So I had to look up a lot of the songs to get the titles exactly right. It took me a half hour to track down the official name of CAKE's song "Mahna Mahna," because it doesn't technically have any lyrics--just music and sounds. (It's on my playlist to the right, if you want to listen to it.) A sane person would've just skipped the song and gone onto the next, but I did not want to cheat. I'm sure it would be the last straw that keeps me out of heaven.

I wanted to put my results on ye ole bloggy, so here they are:

If someone asks, “Are you okay?” You reply:
I Miss You - Blink 182

How would you describe yourself?
Best of You - Foo Fighters

What do you like in the opposite sex?
Superman - Five for Fighting

How do you feel today?
The Reason - Hoobastank (my favorite band name EVER)

What is your life’s purpose?
It's All Been Done - BareNaked Ladies (of course!)

What is your motto?
Homecoming Queen - Hinder

What do your friends think of you?
Accidentally in Love - Counting Crows

What do you think of your parents?
Falling for the First Time - BareNaked Ladies

What do you think about very often?
Lips of an Angel - Hinder (I can't even tell you how much I love this song)

What is 2+2?
105 - Smash Mouth (I am not kidding--this is exactly the song that came up for this question!)

What do you think of your best friend?
When I Come Around - Green Day

What do you think of the person you like?
If You Leave Me Now - Chicago

What is the story of your life?
Another Postcard - BareNaked Ladies (what can I say? I like me my BareNaked Ladies)

What do you want to be when you grow up?
Believe - Staind

What do you think of when you see the person you like?
Harder to Breathe - Maroon 5

What will you dance to at your wedding?
Mad About You - Hooverphonic (I would LOVE to dance to this at my wedding, actually)

What will they play at your funeral?
You're Beautiful - James Blunt (The obvious answer, duh! BTW - He high-fived me this
summer. Yup. We're tight. So he'd probably come and sing it himself gladly at my funeral.)

What is your hobby/interest?
Bring Me Down - Puddle of Mudd (absolute favorite head-banger song)

What is your biggest fear?
I'm Yours - Jason Mraz

What is your biggest secret?
Walking On the Sun - Smash Mouth (Dang--I didn't want that secret to get out. Now it'll get crowded up there.)

What do you think of your friends?
Mahna Mahna- CAKE

What will you post this as?
Angels on the Moon - Thriving Ivory

You CAN go back!

2009-02-01T20:55:00.000-11:00

I just did not have enough to distract me from my real life, so I went ahead and joined Facebook. I've had friends put it on my 'to do' list for at least a year now. I get secret pleasure out of being rebellious; however, I was sick for 3 weeks and just COULD NOT find another way to avoid it. So off I went...bit the bullet...took the plunge...slapped the hippo...(made ya think, huh?)

I was really thinking that I'd be able to stalk my current friends by participating on Facebook. (They've gotten really tricky at avoiding my calls, emails, and drive-by's. Time for a new strategy.) I hadn't even really considered un-earthing the friends of yester-year. But about 3 days into the biting hippo plunge, I suddenly discover all of these people from my past, and within 24 hours, we're TALKING (slash typing). Oh my, what nostalgia--I'm suddenly craving leg warmers and big hair and fretting over what I'll wear to the next dance. But better than that (as if it gets better than leg warmers), I'm reconnecting with these people who have shaped my life significantly, and it's exhilarating!

Take my friend Cheri. Becky, Cheri and I did EVERYTHING together from middle school right through until college. Then Cheri went to Idaho for school, while Becky and I went to Utah. Sadly for Becky, this destroyed any chance she had of shaking me off. But Cheri got away from me, and I've only seen her a few times in the last 20 years--not at all in the last 10 years. I had no idea where she was, even.

20 seconds of searching on Facebook, and there she was. Amazing thing is, she'd moved back to our hometown, and I was scheduled to visit there in just a few days! Once I got to town (where Becky also lives) Becky, Cheri and I got together, and WAHOO we had fun! Here we are (Me, Becky, Cheri):

It's just amazing how quickly we were right back in high school--oh the giggling and squealing! But we also had such great discussions about kids and life and overcoming hurdles. It was hard to leave. I was ready to drive my Dodge Colt home, say goodnight to my folks, and do it all again the next day and the next and next... It's just too bad the Dodge Colt is in the junk yard, my folks moved away, and there's a major street running through my old bedroom now. Sigh.

I had such a great time. It was hugely 'healing' to be with my best girls again. And Becky's family were great hosts (as always). I pulled a quick one by making Becky buy all sorts of paint and then sneaking out of town. Heh-heh :)

I've struggled many times when I've come home from vacations. I just can't re-engage with my my super-glamorous life for weeks. But not this time! I feel rested and strong and complete. Thank you Becky! Thank you Cheri! Thank you Facebook! I love you all.

A plaque would've been sufficient, thanks...

2009-01-21T19:24:00.000-11:00

Hubby received this email today:
********
Good afternoon (Erin's Hubby),

I would like to congratulate you and SiteCheck Inspections, Inc. on your approval for membership in the AAMGA as a Business Services Member. Your application was reviewed at the last Board of Directors meeting. You will receive a more formal package of information, a plague, and a dues bill in the coming weeks. Please do not hesitate to contact me should you have any questions. Again, welcome to the AAMGA.

Best regards,
(Woman who would surely prefer to be anonymous)
*********
And this was his response:
*********
Thank you (Woman who would surely prefer to be anonymous),

I’m excited to be joining the association. I’m not crazy about the whole “plague” thing, but I’m looking forward to participating with the other members.

(Erin's Hubby)
********

That made me laugh so hard! Just another example of why we should never get too complacent with spell check!

The dance of the dishes

2009-01-20T06:34:00.000-11:00

Don't you hate it when you have to force someone NOT to do your dishes? I know...we should all have such problems. This person which I'm trying to keep out of my kitchen is my mother-in-law, Dixie. She is here visiting for a few days (visiting from South Sandy...five minutes away). If you recall, her memory and reasoning have become, well, unreliable, so it's always an adventure. When she's here, she truly wants to help out, and I really do admire her for that. (Heck, it's one of my favorite qualities in people. You want to help ME out? You're my favorite person!) But last time she snuck in and did our dishes, she put Comet (aka scouring powder) in the dishwasher instead of dw detergent. It took a lot of scrubbing to get the white toxic film off of every single dish. Even in her 'younger' years (early 80's), she was famous for just rinsing dishes off with water and putting them back in the cabinet.

And so you see how this is one of those situations where 'help' causes more work, not to mention undue mental anguish. (You never forget the first time you pull a slimy spoon out of your silverware drawer and then realize your children have been doing the same all day...and then eating off of it. Ewwww.)

Add to this drama the memory loss--oh, and the near-deafness--and things get really exciting. It starts in the morning. I'll hear her puttering around in the kitchen, so I'll go down there and ever-so-kindly yell at her that she doesn't need to do the dishes. She gets pretty fired up when I tell her she can't help. So then I have to make up excuses, most of which she won't accept (especially the "that's the kids' responsibility" one, because she doesn't believe in children having chores). Finally, I tell her that I'm not feeling well, I need to rest, and the dishes are too loud. She very grudgingly will accept that one after a few minutes of arguing. She sits down, I go lie down upstairs.

15 minutes later, I hear here in the kitchen again. I go down there, corner her, and ask "DID YOU REMEMBER YOU PROMISED ME YOU WOULDN'T DO THOSE DISHES?" Then there's the ten minutes of re-convincing her to go sit down.

Repeat every 15 minutes. One time she said "No, what I promised you is that I wouldn't do the dishes if *I* wasn't feeling well." Ummm...no. Not how it went.

I pleaded with Hubby to please keep her busy so I could take a nap yesterday. I came down a half-hour later, and she had the whole dishwasher loaded. So I herded her out and started re-doing it all. Honestly--I'm not that picky about how such things are done, but when 5 things are blocking the water from ever entering the dishwasher, I have to intervene.

Hubby suggested to me that maybe I was being too protective of my kitchen. Ten minutes later I went in and told him that I'd told his mom she could go clean his office. He pretended like that was no big deal...wouldn't bother him at all...and then he rushed out of the room to find her. Yeah. We're all super laid-back here.

Just so you know that I'm not completely heartless, I *do* let her fold clothes. Piles and piles of them. I lock her in a cold room and tell her she can't come out until every single sock in our house is mated. I've never seen her happier.

Let the Good Times Spin

2009-01-14T12:08:00.000-11:00

I have crystals in my ear. Don't be jealous--it's not a good thing. (Diamonds in my ear would be something to envy.)It's not a terribly bad thing, either, except that it's made me have horrible vertigo for a month. But only when I move my head quickly.

I found out about the crystals when I went to an ENT yesterday. He says it's fairly common. You're supposed to have liquid in your ear to help tell your brain when you're moving. Sometimes you get some crystalization in there, and those crystals tell your brain: "We're falling!! Quick, make the world spin until we want to throw up!!" Crystals are not my friend.

This particular ENT has a specialty in treating crystals, and, well, it's rather bizarre. It involved turning me on my side, back and forth (soooo not fun), and then finally pounding on the offensive side of my head to dislodge those little buggers. He's had great success with making the crystals take up residence in safer places in the ear, and VIOLA! the vertigo is gone.

Enter Erin Black, who has to be the exception to every medical rule. Sigh. I am so dizzy today I cannot walk a straight line. In other words, I'm worse than ever. Sigh. We're hoping it's just because of all of that spinning me around yesterday. (Doc said he couldn't believe how much my eyes spun. Yay.)

The good news is that he also tested my hearing, and it is perfect. We like perfect. This allows me to hear every peep my off-track girls make while I'm propped up in bed watching the room spin. Good times.

Fondant is French for 'Torture Your Mother'

2009-01-12T02:30:00.000-11:00

Shnookie2 LOVES to bake cakes. Unfortunately I LOVE to eat cake. You can see the problem. HOWEVER, this post is not about me (as if that is possible). Hand in hand with the joy of baking for her is the joy of decorating said cakes. Do I dare say she gets a wee bit obsessed with the cake baking slash decorating? Yes, I think I do. When she gets ahold of fondant (for which she gladly spends her own money), she cannot rest until it is shaped and smoothed over some confection of her own creation.

When she was in California over Christmas break, it seems that she couldn't get to a store to buy fondant, so she looked it up on the internet and learned how to MAKE IT HERSELF. That surprised even me. And, wouldn't you know it, HER fondant turns out tastier and easier to use than store-bought fondant.

So, after she got home from Cali and had re-connected with all the important players in her life, the next order of business was to show her new-found cake skills. And here is what she presented to us:

Pretty impressive, eh? And pretty dang tasty, I might add.

And the next post will be about the extra 10 pounds I've mysteriously gained.

The kitchen who will be blue

2009-01-07T08:19:00.000-11:00

If you've ever seen my house, you know that I've done a lot of painting in my day (the kind with a roller on the wall--not the kind with a fine brush which requires talent!). You also would know that I'm not afraid of color. Well, all that has changed. I have met my arch enemy of color: GREY. It has me hiding in a corner, sucking my thumb.

I feel I must clarify. First of all, I'm not afraid of the color grey in general. In fact, it is my latest color obsession. But trying to PAINT a room grey is freaking me out--more specifically, painting my KITCHEN grey. Evidently, that room wants to be one color and one color only: BLUE.

If you've painted with me, first of all: SORRY, and second, you know that I have a system to make sure the color in my head and the color of the finished wall is an exact match. First, I gather all the possible color swatches from as many stores as possible; then I will cut out my favorites from the swatches and tape them on the wall in a row. I live with that for a few days, periodically ripping off the losers and throwing them away. When I'm sure of which color succeeds in every possible lighting situation, I go to the paint store and mix up a quart of it--just a quart. Then I come home and paint a square on the wall, scrutinizing it for at least 24 hours. I will repeat this process as many times as it takes, because compromise on color will DRIVE ME CRAZY everyday for the rest of my life. IF I like the color, then--and only then--will I commit to an entire gallon.

Because of this process, I have PILES of paint cans in my garage. You could paint an entire house with the paint I have out there; that is, if you don't mind several colors on every wall, because most of those cans are quart-sized rejects. (Imagine what that does to their little paint can psyches, knowing they didn't make the cut. Sad.)

So, back to my kitchen. First of all--and sit down for this--we decided to HIRE someone to paint a few rooms for us. Amazingly, I was more than okay with that, although it is a little hard to admit. I have a rep to uphold, afterall. Anyway, they painted, but I still had to do the paint-picking-process (PPP). Unfortunately, these paint dudes didn't want to hang around while I enacted my 10-day system for every room. So I was under some pressure.

Here's what happened: I bought quart after quart of yummy greys, and each one, the second they hit the wall, turned blue. And then they'd dry even bluer. And my face would get redder and redder and steam would come out of my ears. Back to Sherwin Williams I'd go, which happens to be the farthest paint store from us but also the only one with good low VOC paint. And the workers wait. After buying a few quarts, I got tired of the long trip, so I started buying gallons (to avoid coming back for more when I got it right). Same thing...blue. Me red. Workers suggesting I just pick up an move, because this kitchen does NOT want to be grey.

I took a picture of the tester wall. The one we finally picked is outlined in blue.

I know, the one we chose looks blue, too. However, on the wall across the room, it looked very tan:

Can you believe that's the same color? I didn't want tan any more than I wanted blue, but I figured that surely it would end up looking somewhere in between (i.e., grey) by the time it covered the whole room.

And...it does. Behold the end product:

Actually, I'm not sure this is the end product. It's actually much lighter than my 'vision,' and I want to repaint it. HOWEVER, Hubby has put the kabash on anymore projects for awhile. (secretly glad...don't tell him) So I'll live with it and see if it grows on me. (yeah, right)

In the meantime, you can find me on the corner, trying to unload cans of grey paint onto unsuspecting victims.

Don't you wish your rug was hot like mine

2009-01-03T18:08:00.000-11:00

There is light at the end of our remodel tunnel! Unfortunately, *I* am the one who has to get us almost all of the rest of the way. The worker guys are pretty much done, and now I have to put everything back together, re-hang pics, dig through boxes, etc. Hmmm, sounds like moving.

Thankfully, most of the basement is put back together, and it looks great! A lot of people have a hard time picturing what cork floors look like (I think they expect to see push-pin sticking out all over. hee), so I'm posting a couple pics of it. First, the close-up:

It feels like wood but has this ever so slight cushioning effect. Yummy! And you can see it in the next photo too. But first, I must share the story. A friend of my family owns a local well-known interior design business, which is where we went for our flooring. Then came the delays in shipping because of this, that, and the other, all the fault of wood suppliers. So our friend calls me to apologize (even tho we weren't mad or anything) and says she wants us to come and pick out an area rug from their design showroom--she wants us to have it for free so we won't have bad memories when we look at our floors! Wow, it's scary how happy that made me! I go to the show room, start going through these AMAZING 100% Wool plush area rugs that start at $1000, and I find the rug of my dreams. And now it sits in my basement family room! Did I mention FREE?

It's hard to tell in the photo, but it's got all these different textures and pile heights.

And it works--I have absolutely no bad memories when I look at this rug. In fact, I tingle from head to foot. Come by some time, take your shoes off, and walk on it. You might not get tingles (afterall, it's not YOU who got it for FREE), but your feet will be happy.

Thanks to a warm front...

2009-01-01T05:55:00.000-11:00

Before Christmas 2008 totally retreats into the annals of time, let us bask in the twinkling lights of Salt Lake City's Temple Square. This is a local Christmas tradition that we have missed for the past four or so years, mostly because it involves five things I hate: cold, crowds, cold, impossible parking, and COLD. Thankfully, we've had a veritable heat wave since Christmas, and it's been hugging 40 degrees most every day. That eliminates...let's see...THREE...of the five things I hate; therefore, we ventured off to the big city of lights on Monday night.

It was beautiful, and such a great experience to take the new camera for a spin. Granted, I still have no idea how to use it, but I felt pretty cool walking around with it hanging around my neck. (I told Hubby that unless I sit down and learn how to use it soon, it's pretty much just a necklace...and a purse, cuz the camera bag is way cool.)

So don't expect much, but here's a few shots of the night:

And one in the Joseph Smith Memorial Building, which blows me away every time I go in there:

Picture Perfect Christmas

2008-12-28T13:44:00.000-11:00

Look at what greeted me Christmas morning!!!:

It's a Nikon D60, and I was so NOT expecting this baby! I seriously cried. I don't remember ever doing that over a gift (over spilt milk, sure, but not over a gift!). Hubby totally surprised me there.

I've taken a batch of pictures, and OH. MY. GOSH., do they look good. I don't know how I survived with my old camera. And even though I know it is totally the camera's doing, my self-esteem has raised a little anyway. I can take awesome pictures!

A normal human being would've taken SCADS of photos by now, but, alas, not me. I got hit with a stomach flu the 26th that put me in the ER, and then in bed for 2 days. I seriously slept 21 of 24 hours yesterday. I'm pretty sure I was dreaming about using my new camera, but there's not much to show for it.

But here's one I took even as the forces of evil germs were gathering within me, plotting to separate me from my new camera.

And here's one of our Christmas tree, which got put up on December 21st--I kid you not. It will be staying with us until the end of February.

2008-12-24T08:30:00.000-11:00

Today Betty brings you two of her current passions rolled into one: Christmas and Twilight spoofs. Enjoy!

Why NOT to store dead bodies in your freezer

2008-12-12T04:00:00.001-11:00

So we're on about day 237 of having our appliances in the middle of our kitchen. Basically, I just avoid the whole scene, because my hair stands straight up on end when I walk into the room. So, imagine my surprise when I am forced to go in there for some reason, and I see a pool of leaking liquid coming out of my freezer.

(notice that I did go so far as to throw a few napkins on the goo before running screaming down the street)

Evidently, the fridge had died sometime the day before. DIED. Everything perishable ruined. Naturally, I'd just been shopping the day before. I think I mourn the thin mint ice cream the most. I had a beautiful future planned for the two of us. Sigh.

We have had that fridge for 11.5 years and were planning on replacing it soon. Not THIS soon, of course, but soon enough that it doesn't really make sense to toss money at it for repairs. (And I know a shopping opportunity when I see one!) So we hustled off to replace it. Did you know that most places do not have refrigerators in stock on the premises? Something about not enough space, blah, blah, blah. Whatever. We need a fridge NOW, people. Our children need to put COLD milk on their cereal. And Momma has thin mint ice cream on her mind. Sigh.

The soonest we could get the fridge we wanted was early next week. So we sucked it up and agreed to wait. Not 24 hours after ordering it, the factory calls to say that it's on backorder and it'll be another week. DID I NOT MENTION THAT WE NEED COLD--NOW??? Oh my.

So, here's my lesson for you: If you ever plan on replacing your fridge, do it NOW, before your current one dies. You'll thank me later.

Groovy, Man

2008-12-07T14:14:00.000-11:00

Here's me finally remembering to post about this little project I L-O-V-E. I saw it done in my favorite catalog/website CB2 (www.CB2.com), so I bought the frame from them and went to town in PhotoShop (back when I had it. which I do again now, thanks to my recent 29th birthday).

That will have a prominent spot in the new family room. It makes me feel so cool. I just may take up wearing white vinyl go-go boots.

2008-12-02T15:05:00.000-11:00

2 noteworthy phenomena:

First of all, it is December 2nd, and it's 58 degrees. And it's been like that for WEEKS, with no end in sight. How much do I love global warming?

Second of all, this is what my house looks like:

(The first one who says that's what my house always looks like gets kicked off the island. Even tho you're right.)

We are replacing the floors in our basement and on most of our main floor. In preparation for that glorious event, Hubby and Shnookie1 have ripped up the old ones. Unfortunately, the installation has been delayed more than a week. Soooo, we are living in crazy-making chaos while we wait, wait, wait.

Stay tuned for pics of the new floors! Hooray!!

When the Spirit Moves You...

2008-11-29T05:46:00.000-11:00

I have sharing time in Primary this week....err....tomorrow. (It's only 10:00 am, so I'm getting a head start. No procrastinating here, huh-uh, no way.)

Primary is the childrens' organization in the LDS church. During 2/3 of our Sunday meeting time, the kids meet together...like Sunday School. Sharing time is when one lucky adult gets to teach all of them together. I'm pretty sure that's the official definition. hehe

So I'm looking online for something to steal, err inspire me, and--wonders of wonders--I get totally side-tracked. I found this cute site called "Overheard in the Ward." (www.overheardintheward.com) Naturally, I must share with you something I read there, so that we both may be inspired and edified:

GAS THERAPY

CTR 5 teacher: What is something you love to do? Something that makes you happier than anything else?

5-year-old: Farting.

Now I have to get back to working this into my sharing time. Don't you wish you were in my ward??

Let the Twilight frenzy begin

2008-11-22T06:08:00.000-11:00

I have a teenage daughter. She has devoured all of the Twilight books. She and her Edward-loving friends have been looking forward to the movie. Me?? Not so much. I have read all the books and actually quite enjoyed them. Part of the reason is that they far surpassed my expectations, which warms my cockles because the writer is a BYU graduate. I'm very proud of her. (No doubt she lives for my approval and this is the best news she's heard all year. #1 selling book? Eh. A movie contract? Yawn. Erin Black's thumbs up? WAHOO!!)

Reading my niece-in-law, Brittney's blog post about the movie today reminded me that my expectations for the movie are pretty low. And this time I highly doubt I'll be proven terribly wrong. I was able to get through the cheesy lines in the book by reading them really fast. Not possible in a movie. Just the trailer has caused me some queasiness. The SPOOF on the trailer, however, deserves an Oscar. It has made me laugh out loud more than once. If you haven't seen it, you simply must:

I love the part where he runs after the hot girl saying "I'm immortal!"
Now that's good cinema.

The family who drinks together...

2008-11-09T12:53:00.000-11:00

Pardon me for a moment, but I must brag on my husband. Since this blog is as close to a family history as we'll probably ever get, I want it recorded in the annals of time that my husband is a wonder. He started a company--all alone, from the ground up, in an industry he knew nothing about--three years ago. Two days ago He sold it for a tidy little sum. I am just so proud of him! I don't think there are many people in this world who would even attempt that, much less actually make it work. It astounds me! I want to be him when I grow up.

Friday night we held a wild celebration of the sale, wherein we drank bottle after bottle of the apple-variety bubbly. Here's a photo of the wild party (still no photoshop, sorry):

Oh, yeah, none taken!

2008-11-06T06:12:00.000-11:00

A conversation immediately after picking up Shnookie4's little friend:

Little friend: You need to clean out your car, I guess. It stinks in here. (pause) NO OFFENSE.

Shnookie4: Maybe it's YOU that stinks. NO OFFENSE.

All of us laughing, but me secretly high-fiving the Shnook.

Idle hands

2008-11-03T07:00:00.000-11:00

Shnookie4's last soccer game was on Saturday. Two hours before the start of the game, I decided that I had time to wash her socks, so I put them in with a load of like-minded clothing. I have had the same washer and dryer for TEN YEARS and I'm still in denial about how incredibly s-l-o-w they are. 15 minutes before we had to leave, I check the dryer, and the socks are still beyond moist. So I take out all of the other clothes, believing the personal attention will accelerate the drying. Not. We've done EVERYTHING else we can possible do to get ready, and they've still made no progress.

Shnookie4 is very punctual, so the sock drama is stressing her out big time. In one of those rare mom 'ah-ha' moments, I decide to secure the socks in the passenger window and let them flap in the breeze while we speed to soccer. Except that we get behind not one, but two Grandma's out for a leisurely drive. I am not against Grandma's and their need to drive slowly (it's probably best that we slow down at some point in life), and I didn't even really care if we got to our destination on time. BUT what I did need was as much kinetic energy as possible to blow dry my baby's socks. It was kinda like the movie SPEED. Except that we were racing for foot comfort instead of a bunch of strangers lives. You can see how high the stakes were.

I managed to get ahead of Grandma #2 (who didn't care for that much, btw, even though I followed all laws and made no hand gestures whatsoever). And, as is inevitable in these cases, I got stopped at a light 10 blocks ahead, and there she is, right behind me. I mention that tidbit to Shnookie4, and she turns to look behind, saying, "I want to see what the grandma is doing." Pause. "Probably knitting." When I laughed, she said, "What?? That's what Grandma's do." I think the fact that Grandma Williams was at our house the night before, knitting in the 10 seconds between serving trick-or-treaters, had something to do with her assumption. Now I'm wondering if maybe my mom does knit at stop lights when no one is looking.

Goodbye Aloha

2008-10-28T02:04:00.000-11:00

While in Hawaii, I committed myself to take the Aloha spirit home with me--to live a little easier and not stress. A lot of this commitment stems from the knock-down, drag-out blues I encountered when I got back from Lake Powell. I just don't recover well from vacations; reality somehow knocks me on my fanny. (I know--how strange to prefer vacation life to real life! I'm a nut.)

So I was doing really well with the whole 'hang-loose' adjustment program--enjoying my kids, avoiding laundry, warming up Costco food. And then I got a call from the bishopbric on Wednesday night which sent Aloha back across the ocean. Yup. A talk in Sacrament Meeting. And 3 days to prepare. (I was filling in for someone else, thus the last-minute notice.)

(Because the LDS church operates with a lay ministry, members of our congregations take turns addressing the whole membership. The bishop and his counselors decide on a topic and then invite someone to speak on it--totally voluntary.)

Finally, Saturday night I got this talk all written, so I tested it out on Lance. It was 35 minutes long. (Poor guy! Although he was watching football through half of it. Can't blame him.) I was assigned just 10 minutes. So I started cutting stuff out (including the charming story of me as a 5-yr-old. sniff) and got it down to 20 minutes. I always talk faster when I'm nervous, so I figured that was good enough. I went to bed, got thinking about it and realized I'd written the wrong talk, got all panicky and then had scary showing-up-in-my-underwear dreams all night. (And let me tell ya--me in my underwear redefines 'scary' in a whole new way.)

Morning comes, and I have exactly 15 minutes to re-write my talk, which really made very little difference in the end...except for making me more nervous. We go to church, I sit on the stand, and eventually realize that 2 of the other speakers are no-shows. AND there are no announcements. (When does that happen, for crying out loud??) The scheduled final speaker (my friend, Debbie) leans over to me, panicking that she can't make up that much time. Remembering all of my cut-out 30-minutes of material, I tell her I'll take care of it. Fine. All is well. 10 minutes later, I suddenly realize I've left at home the sheets with all of the amazing quotes that tie my whole talk together. To my credit, I did not scream out loud. I just clamped my mouth tight and let my eyes shoot out of my head. Not noticeable at all.

In the end, my talk evidently went pretty well. I made up all of the parts of the quotes I couldn't remember--only using "blah, blah, blah" a few times--and I got to tell the charming story of me as a 5-yr-old afterall. I have to admit, though, I felt very underwhelmed with the whole thing when I sat down. The man snoring on the second row didn't help any. I comforted myself with the fact that it was over and the scary underwear dreams would at least subside. Much to my surprise, when the meeting ended, I received many kind compliments--more than I've ever received before. Go figure.

So I guess that man on the second row was just so dazzled that he slipped into a coma. Wouldn't be the first time. (tee hee)

It's a very bad news/very good news thing

2008-10-22T03:23:00.000-11:00

Bad News:

My laptop completely crashed last Sunday. Right before church, when I was trying to print out the parts for the Primary Program I'd spent all week writing. Hubby went home during the 2nd hour to try and fix it. During the 3rd hour, he came to church, pulled me out into the hall, and told me that everything got deleted. EVERYTHING. Ever one to handle disappointment well, I burst into tears right there. It wasn't the primary program that I mourned, or my Dad's life history I've worked on for a month (those realizations happened later)--it was all of those family pictures I hadn't gotten around to backing up. Wave after wave of ugly crying.

Of course, we rushed Lappy to the computer doctor, and she's been there all week. The prognosis is iffy, although fairly positive (I think. I'm no computer doctor...I just play one on TV). We should hear today how much of her they were able to save.

Good news:

I know, usually the bad news/good news program involves two related items. I think the rules say, however, that if it's REALLY good news, they don't have to be. THUS:

Two days after the computer crash, I took off for HAWAII! I think anyone would agree that there's no place better on earth than Hawaii to recover from a technological heartbreak.

My mom rented a big house in Oahu, right along the North Shore beach, and she invited all of her children (7) and their spouses. Unfortunately, my spouse had a huge week at work he couldn't miss, so I went stag. Of course, that was good news for all the muscled hotties in Hawaii. :) What happens in Hawaii stays...

I really, really had a great time. It was fun to be with my siblings and their spouses. And I didn't even feel like the...uh...13th wheel. Afterall, I had my Mom, and we make a really cute couple. :)

Now, I'm going to show you some pictures. Keep in mind the Bad News factor--I have no Lappy, therefore I have no Photoshop, therefore I have no superpowers. Okay then.

Here's everyone, minus my sister-in-law, Jan, at the temple.

Here's the view from our house (yummy):

Here's me with two of my brothers, Randy and Marc, at the Polynesian Cultural Center:

Here's me at Hanauma Bay, with my brother Randy. He and I snorkeled, and it was a-ma-zing!! I think that was my favorite thing on the trip.

Hanauma Bay is a protected wildlife preserve, so, before they set you loose on the beach, you have to watch a 9-minute film about how to behave in the water. One of the big things is not to damage the coral, which covers a lot of the bay. I was totally cool with that, signed on the dotted line, and off we went. Randy was very patient with me and let me practice putting my face in the water (Toddler101) as long as I needed. I was just getting brave with it, when I came up for a sec, and found a random woman screaming at me "You're not supposed to stand on the fish!!" Startled, I re-adjusted my mask to clear the hallucination, yet there she still was, yelling at me about the fish. Apparently, the coral had already started, and I was ~gasp~ putting a flipper on it. How that would pin down a seasoned little fishy, I don't know, but I shaped right up. And avoided that mad woman as much as possible. You'd think I'd brought along my harpoon or something.

And here's me with Betsy, our vehicle for the Jungle Expedition (I was really hoping for a Betty, dernit):

I have a few scenery-type pics that I want to share, but I will refrain until I can pretty them up a little with PhotoShop. Those ones REALLY show what I loved about my rendevous with Hawaii, because they capture the "ahhhhhh" moments--when all the planets aligned and I felt whole. The moments when thoughts of my ailing Lappy and mountains of laundry were far, far away.

ahhhhhh

The Fourth Little Pig Who Builds With Sheets

2008-10-11T18:46:00.000-11:00

This is how I found Shnookie4 the other night when I went in to check on her:

I had to pry her little fingers out of the holes in the afghan! She slept right through it, but then again, all the blood had drained down to her armpit by then, so her fingers probably had no feeling.

She has a rail with hooks all the way around her room, so that's how the blankets are attached to the walls. She LOVES to build forts and then sleep in them (after decorating them thoroughly). Quite frequently I find my linen closet bare, only to walk into her room and get lost in its labyrinth of hanging sheets. Makes for a lot of extra laundry loads, let me tell ya. But it's good to know that if she ever gets lost in the forest and has access to piles of sheets (cuz where else would they be?), she'll be able to make shelter for herself. And with her complicated architectural designs, any bear would get lost before he got to her.

The Sky Falleth

2008-10-04T10:42:00.000-11:00

I have issues with Fall, a.k.a. the end of everything good, a.k.a. Summer. Oh, I love the 'idea' of Fall--the fair weather, the crisp air, the beautiful leaves. And I enjoy thoroughly those things when they happen. It's just I can't get past my nagging dread of doom, a.k.a. WINTER. In Utah, I swear, we enjoy about a week of that idealic Fall fairytale, and then BAM!! It's six feet of snow and thermal underwear. Frozen tundra living, day in and day out for seven months. It makes me more than a little craaaaazy. Why in the world doesn't every citizen in this state run screaming for California when the first leaf turns yellow??

We happen to live directly under a major geese migration path. Every year, starting in mid-August, these geese come in flocks, honking like crazy, and glide southward over our house. It was quite charming for the first few years, and then I realized WHY they are getting the heck out of dodge. Winter is coming!! Run, fly, do what you have to to escape!! That's what I hear in their honk-honking. And I know it's not really fair to take it out on the birds, but every year, the first time I hear them coming,I put down my lemonade, stand up on my lawn chair, and shake my fist at them. I really wouldn't blame them if they pooped on me (although that wouldn't do much to improve our relationship). Maybe I'm just jealous that they get to follow their instincts and head for warmer pastures.

That all being said, this year I have really, really tried to carpe diem and ignore the dread. It has been GORGEOUS weather here--low to mid 80's--for WEEKS, and I just couldn't be more pleased. I have tried to point it out every chance I get, say thanks for it in prayers, hug every tree I can find, and rescue every beached whale I see...all in hopes that I'll build up good weather karma. Isn't that how this works?

And so....here's some pictures from our jaunt up the canyon yesterday. Just me and the girls, and we had so much fun!

Oh, and did I tell you? As part of a limited-time offer, every "oooh" and "aaaah" earns you 5 points of personal weather karma. Act now!!

Whatever. Hi. Now where do you hide your treats?

2008-09-28T14:43:00.000-11:00

Thought I'd show you what an hour of my free time produces:

Isn't he so precious?? He also lifts his paw to shake when you say "Howdy" to him. He learns REALLY fast--like I said, it took me a total of an hour to teach him "play dead." Part of the reason he's so easy to teach tricks is that he's HIGHLY, highly, HIGHLY food-motivated. When he gets a hankering for a treat (which is 23 hours of every day), he'll actually start lifting his paw to you. First one, then the other, then the other, over and over again. People come in our house, and they're so impressed he wants to greet them with a howdy shake. Friendly, polite doggy!! In reality, he's hitting them up for a treat. Ya know, just in case they go through their day with a dog biscuit in their pocket. We should just teach him to hold a pistol, then he could get straight to the point, without any of that annoying human gushing.

Boozer is so food motivated that he'll go on hunger strikes for DAYS. If he gets a hold of one little piece of hot dog that rolled into the family room (it happens), he will refuse to eat his dry dog food. Instead, he'd rather hold out for the good stuff he's just sure is rolling his way any second. (If the kids were younger, that strategy would probably make sense--spilled food 24/7!) Then he'll get hungry, he'll paw us to death trying to instigate a howdy shake, we get annoyed, we put him outside, and he eats his own poop. Yes, this dog would rather eat THAT than stoop to eating the specialty liver, chicken and beef dog food we give him. I think even in the doggy world that is called irony.

Exposing the Art Geek's Offspring

2008-09-21T08:57:00.000-11:00

Remember my whole passionate, rambling tribute to the Monet to Picasso exhibit? Well, the whole of Utah (and lucky parts of Wyoming and Idaho, I suppose) had the opportunity to bask in it, thanks to Carole Makita at Channel 5 News. She spotted our potential Friday, as I was walking out of the exhibit with my 3 daughters. First thought? "Oh no--someone told her about the lady who makes strange spontaneous noises." (Oh, and BTW I got in trouble this time for getting too close to the paintings. Excuse me for wanting to lick the tempura applied by the hand of Matisse! Sheesh!)

Instead, it appears that Carole was in search of a saintly parent who had opened the world of art to her children that day. Naturally, that would be me. Before we knew it, the camera was rolling, and each of us gave a little shpeal (sp?) about the vistas opened to us during our visit. For those of you who don't live in Utah (or lucky parts of Wyoming and Idaho), and for those of you who do, but don't watch news at 4:00 in the afternoon (c'mon!!), here's the clip:

Can you believe how poised and articulate my 3 girls are?? She put the microphone to their mouths, and that is exactly what came out of their mouths! I was in awe. Or should I say I was "MOVED." That's the big joke in our house this weekend..."Mom, are you MOVED?"

After we were done, Carole thanked us and told us we were just the ideal family. My reply? "We get that a lot." Sometimes I just can't help myself.

I like that Carole. She was so nice and easy to talk to, and she obviously knows quality when she sees it. :)

If ever there were a time to be grateful I'd bothered to put on some makeup in the morning, this would be it.

6 Unremarkable Things About ME!

2008-09-16T09:31:00.000-11:00

I've been tagged by Jen B., and I must tell 6 unremarkable things about myself. I think I probably divulge 60 unremarkable things every time I post, so basically--to you readers--this will be a mini session of what I put you through regularly.

1. I have three moles on my left ankle that, when connected, make a perfect triangle. Just more evidence that my body is a wonderland. (As John Mayer likes to tell me.)

2. It used to drive me crazy that my mom never finished her glass of milk at dinner. NOW...what do you think I do???? Yup. I think that subconsciously I'm saving some in case we have dessert and I need that extra 2 swallows. Of course, we rarely have dessert, and if we did, I'd have been the one to make it, so it wouldn't be much of a surprise, now, would it?

3. For the last three years, every time a season changes, I procrastinate packing up my off-season clothes. When I finally get it done, I'm so proud of myself! But then I leave the big containers in my bedroom, so that I can carry them down "the next time I go to the basement." I'm staring at them right now, in my bedroom, full of the winter clothes I'll start procrastinating to hang up soon.

4. I have never been a nail-biter (except for that one month in Italy, who knows why), but I cannot leave my TOE nails alone to grow. I always peel off the new growth, or, when a tough growth warrants it, I've been known to bite at it.

4. I could go on forever at this.

4b. And I can't count.

5. I used to sleep with my hands crossed over my heart so that if someone put a knife into me, maybe it wouldn't reach my heart. Always the pragmatist, even in my night terrors.

The very official terms & conditions:

Link the person who tagged you.
Mention the rules on your blog.
List 6 unspectacular things about you.
Tag 6 other bloggers by linking them.

Are there six people who even read my blog?? Hmmm. If I just made up names, no one would ever know, right? tee hee...so tempting.

Okay, so I'm just gonna tag some of my nieces: Jeni, Alaina, Brittney, Beyonce, and Mary; and then Jill, because she needs some motivation to update her blog and stop driving me crazy with curiosity!!

Feeding the Art Geek

2008-09-11T07:20:00.000-11:00

I had one of those life-changing experiences yesterday. Hubby and I went with our dear friends Paul and Merrie to the Monet to Dali exhibit at the Utah Museum of Modern Art (that's UMFA, or even uuummmmpha for those of us too lazy to pronounce five extra words) (me). This is a traveling expedition from the Cleveland Museum of Art. (You'll have to ask a Clevelanite to find out what lazy people there call it.)

I SAW REAL ART!!! Not that all art isn't real art, mind you--it's just that when I see actual objects I studied about in college, I get a little excited. Okay, A LOT excited. There was hyperventilation...I kid you not. When I stood next to Rodin's "The Thinker," I literally teared up. (It's one of several casts done of the sculpture, of course, but still...) Paul and Merrie had already been once to the exhibition, and Hubby...well, Hubby obviously connects with masterpieces much more quickly than I do. So they all gave up on staying with me by the 5th painting. Therefore, I was alone (which was fine--less pressure). The problem was, I kept forgetting that I wasn't totally ALONE, and strange noises kept escaping from my mouth. I'm sure a few people thought I was possessed. Maybe I was, but I'll embrace that demon every day! I just could.not.believe what I'd find around every corner, so those little gasps and foreign sounds were completely out of my control.

Here's a sampling of just a few pieces I saw:

Of course, Rodin's "The Thinker" (and many more of his works--amazing):

Picasso's "Harlequin and Violin 1918":

Dali's "The Dream":

and Van Gogh's "The Poplars at Saint-Remy 1889." No print I've ever seen could do this one justice. It was SO VIVID in real life.

Oh, and I can't leave out the Mondrian I saw! I was in total awe of that, a lot because it's so widely printed and imitated in modern life. But none of the reproductions show the actual brushstrokes, and that gave me chills. Sometimes it looks like a 1st grader (or a computer) could do the same simple thing, but when you see the small, deliberate brushstrokes he used, you see the care and patience it must've taken. I stood with my face 2 inches from the painting for a long time. (Between that and the noises, I think people were starting to give me a wide berth!) So, here's "Composition with Red, Yellow, and Blue 1927"(The biggest image I could find, unfortunately. Good luck seeing those brushstrokes!):

And remember--these are just a mere fraction of the masterpieces I saw. All of those artists had many more works on display, plus there were numerous works by Matisse, Monet, Gauguin, Seurat, Renior, and on and on and on. I was literally breathless when I met up with my toe-tapping party (not really--they were very patient). It took me 10 minutes to feel like I wasn't going to pass out. I'm gonna go back with my kids next week, if my health can endure it. Maybe an oxygen tank is in order.

Not again...

2008-09-05T07:59:00.000-11:00

Shnookies 3 & 4 came home from the bus stop yesterday, their heads exploding with joy, because someone was passing out POKEMAN cards. That's when MY head exploded. Not with joy, mind you. I survived through a Pokeman obsession with Shnookie 1, and I still show the scars. At the time, I told myself "Breathe deeply, this fad won't last, I won't be staring at hideous creatures and their impossible Japanese names forever. Just get through it." And I did. Becky offered to teach me how the whole 'game' works, but I declined, knowing that I only had one boy and that kind of torturous investment of energy is just not worth it. Kinda like boyscouting.

Yet here I am, scheduled, as in written in stone, to go to Target today and look for Pokeman cards immediately after school. Alas, Shnookie 4 has caught the fever. It's all she can think about. I could strangle that little generous kid at the bus stop. Grrrr.

You're probably thinking it's perfect--that Shnook 1 can just give his old cards to #4. YOU WOULD BRING THAT UP!! Sheesh. Now I have to relive one of those moments that still makes me so angry I see red. It's about when Shnookie 1 sold his Pokeman cards.

Five years ago we had a big garage sale. Shnook1 had all sorts of electronics and stuff to sell--all the stuff he'd grown past--so we made him his own little station. One of the things he wanted to sell was a big binder, stuffed full of all the Pokeman cards he'd collected. And these weren't just lame-o $2 pack cards; he'd put a lot of his own money into collecting rare ones.

The garage sale got pretty busy (valuable junk like mine draws the crowds in!), so Hubby and I were occupied answering questions, etc. At the end of the day, I asked Shnook how it went with his stuff, cuz he seemed a little down. That's when I learn about this monster middle-aged woman who bartered my 12-yr-old son down to $15 for his entire Pokeman collection. Can you imagine taking advantage of a kid that way? And the despicable woman paid with cash, so I couldn't take her check and hunt her down at home. If I could, I'm sure I'd find triple 6's on her forehead. grrrrrrrrrrrr.

Gasoline will be fre-e-e-e

2008-08-30T14:24:00.000-11:00

That lame cell-phone pic is to prove to you that Hubby and I went to an outdoor Sheryl Crow concert this week. She had James Blunt with her, which was way cool. When I say she had him 'with' her, I mean he came out and did his bit before she came out. . . not that she had him tucked under her arm or anything while she sang. Just clarifying.

I loved the whole thing--the outdoors, the music, the drunk female posse next to us. Hubby enjoyed the James Blunt part, but was fighting his urge to run by the end of Sheryl. Let's just say that Sheryl and Hubby's political views are not compatible, and Sheryl's not one to hide hers under a bushel (or whatever). Luckily, he didn't know the words to the songs she did about how the president is lying to us (although I think he could sense it), so he was semi-okay. UNTIL she sang her gasoline song, which she started with a big singing speech (something only SHE can get away with--do not try this in church) about how much EXXON is profiting from gas prices, etc, etc. So I'm trying to enjoy the song about gasoline (how often do you get to say that?) and he's muttering in my ear "Well, how much is SHE profiting from this concert? I don't like the prices of her tickets, etc, etc." I kept telling him to just enjoy the music--he didn't have to sign a contract professing loyalty to her views or anything. Sheesh!

I thought he was gonna pass out when the audience starting begging for an encore.

But let us give credit here to Hubby for buying these tickets as a surprise for me and agreeing to accompany me. I told him that I would repay him when I accompany him to his mission reunion next month...again. Yawn.

And we must also give credit to Hubby for getting great seats right along the middle aisle, parallel to the stage. Not only did that give us plenty of leg room, but it afforded me a life-changing moment. DRUM ROLL.....James Blunt and I shared a moment that will last for all time. Yup, he high-fived me. Full hand contact. During one song, he jumped into the crowd, ran up the side isle and then ran down our aisle. Oh sure, he high-fived other people along the way, but I think we all know that he was just trying to get to me. Unfortunately, he got a little confused (probably intimidated by Hubby) and kissed the next woman past me. He's British, he makes mistakes. I can live with that.

What My Heaven Looks Like

2008-08-25T07:47:00.000-11:00

I just downloaded our photos from our vacation in Lake Powell. And I'm a little sad. Why you ask? BECAUSE I'M NOT THERE anymore. Wow, did I love that trip. Okay, not the insanely complicated routine of handling a HOUSE that MOVES on the water (really, do we need that many buttons on the control panel people?), or the miles of vomit the lake water produced from my girls (apparently they missed the "swim with your mouth closed" part of the initiation), or cooking in a kitchen made for Malibu Barbie (it would seem that besides being quite small, she doesn't believe in garbage disposals either. But then, Ken is probably taking her out to the Surf n Turf everynight, so she doesn't have to cook).

So, other than the above and a few annoying bugs, I was so in my element. It feels strange to even say that, cuz I'm not really one of those outdoor adventure Birkenstock-wearing free spirits. My skin is 5 shades of pure white and screams at the sun, I am deathly afraid of drowning, and I can't sleep anywhere but my own bed. The Sierra Club isn't exactly knocking my door down. HOWEVER, my favorite and most Zen-inducing elements are 1) the beach 2) sitting on a fast boat, 3) a beautiful, natural view and the time to breathe it in, and 4) seeing my kids totally blissful hanging out together. This vacation had all 4 of those things in abundance and many, many more.

The kicker? I may never get to do it again, cuz Hubby's Zen list does not include a single one of those things, and he has no desire to ever go back. Sigh. And this time when I say sigh, I mean SIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH.

So let's enjoy those photos! They may be the only ones we ever get!

Here's the house boat we rented, nestled into a pretty little cove by Bullfrog. We pretty much stayed here the whole time. Why mess with perfection? (and the 4 anchors were really a pain to move!)

Here's all the gang on the day we rented a ski boat. Hubby insisted that they all wear these life jackets, about which the teenagers were really thrilled, as you can see. (He did let the teens all take theirs off after awhile on the boat.) BTW, the 2 extra people in the photo are the friends Shnookies 1&2 got to take with them. Somehow they put up with up for 4 days.

Here's how Schnookie3 felt about the boat:

And that's her forcing a smile for the camera. Granted, she'd been vomiting for 24 hours at this point, but I think it's still safe to say that she isn't a boat person. She only endured a half hour of this parental torture. Then the boat broke down (coincidence? hmmm) and she got to deboard for the rest of the day. Fortunately, they brought us a new boat, and Mama was happy!

Here's me during what well may be the best day of my life (other than marriage and births, of course). First of all, I, Erin Marie Black, water-skiied. Yes, thats me skiing on WATER. I was so determined to get up and stay up, which I've never done, and I DID IT!!! I've never felt so alive. Take THAT, cancer! (If I weren't gripping for my life, maybe I would've made an appropriate gesture to that arch enemy.)

Granted, I only stayed up for maybe 45 seconds, but--sadly--that's a record for me.

After skiing and tubing behind the boat, I swam with my girls (we washed our hair with shampoo right there in the lake), I went down the boat's steep water slide a few times (they didn't believe I would. HA!), we ate the most delicious grilled hamburgers ever, and then I reclined on the top deck (I like to call it the Lido Deck. All of my Love Boat knowledge came in very handy.) with a great book. That goes a little something like this:

And while I was doing that, here's what I got to gaze upon:

Hubby and girls engrossed in puzzles right there on the deck as the sun set. And here's what the teenagers were doing downstairs:

Watching movies (while texting, of course). In other words, NO ONE NEEDED ME for a whole hour, and I was soooo at peace. Good sigh.

Besides watching movies, (which they did every night until I made them go to their separate areas to sleep), here's another favorite thing on the teen scene:

They played A LOT of water polo. AND they (mostly the boys) spent a lot of time trying to come up with the most ridiculous poses for pictures. Speaking of which, here's the super-spontaneous shot of S1 and J that they planned for the entire trip. Them jumping off the top of the houseboat together. (It only made them want to do it more when the boat guys said it was against the law.)

Here's the little girls doing their number 1 favorite thing at Lake Powell--swimming by the shore:

See what I mean? Behold the open mouth, just waiting for a big dose of giardia-infested water. This pic also proves that sisterly love never takes a vacation.

And here's S4, doing her 2nd most favorite thing at Lake Powell, playing in the sand:

Isn't that sand gorgeous?!! And Ay Carumba!, did it feel good between the toes. If this yearning for my little slice of heaven doesn't go away soon, you'll be able to reach me at the second houseboat on the right. Or should I say STARBOARD....?

Aaah, the young and the old

2008-08-18T11:38:00.000-11:00

It's been awhile since I've done a Dixie post, and I know the public is dying to hear what she's up to. (In case you don't know, Dixie is my 89-year-old mother-in-law.) She did not end up getting married to her 82-year-old boyfriend, Ike. He broke it off 3 hours before the wedding. Of course, she has no memory of any of that, so they're still together. And he proposes every couple of weeks and breaks up with her every week. They get back together the next day. Ya know, people talk about 'forgive and forget,' but I'm starting to think that just plain old 'FORGET' is even more effective. She's the perfect woman for him.

We went to visit Dixie at her place last night, and there was Ike, fresh from making up from Saturday's break-up. After Dixie introduced all of us to Ike (we've "met" him 50 times at this point), he decided he should go back to his place. So they do a big smooch, right there in the middle of all of us. A few of the kids immediately went pale.

Later, Hubby was teasing her a little about Ike, and she blurts out "You know what he wants me to do? He wants me to SLEEP with him!!" Everyone's eyes pop out of their heads.
Hubby: "Mom, there are kids in the room!"
Grandma Dixie: "Okay, let's take a vote and see if they think I should." She then turns to my 10 YEAR OLD and says "What do you think?"
Shnookie3 is 10 shades of red right about then.
Luckily, we managed to distract grandma quickly.

My kids love Grandma Dixie a lot, and some of our best memories take place with her. She adores all of them, but she particularly takes a shine to our oldest. She's do anything for him and loves to engage him in conversation. We all get a kick out of this, because A) he's so NOT a conversationalist, and B) he's such a child of the 21st century that they hardly even speak the same language. For instance, she asked him what he got for Christmas a while back, to which he responded "A new IPOD." Of course, she had no clue what that was, so in way of explanation, he tells her "It's a kind of MP3 player." He was a bit frustrated when she still looked at him blankly. Hubby and I were ROFL.

On our way out last night, Dixie (who always thinks we live 2 states away instead of down the street) said to Shnookie1, "Hey, drop me a line sometime!" To which he replied, "Oooo-kay. What does that mean?"

I really am something, aren't I?

2008-08-15T03:31:00.000-11:00

I'm not sure that much thrills me more than a great deal, especially if I get to be extra tricky. That said, I am thrilled to the bone right now. And you get to hear why!!

We re-did Shnookie2's room over a year ago in bright colors with a very, VERY subtle beachy theme (she's adamant on this point because her friend across the street has a beach-themed bedroom). Ever since then, we have been searching for a perfect overhead light fixture. Finally, she found a style she loved: a capiz shell tiered chandelier. Cost? around $650. Gulp.

So I have been rolling that around in my head for six months, desperately hoping that IKEA would come out with one for $19.95. (WHY don't they consult me on their design decisions???) Then I saw the capiz part (no lighting capability) at a discount store for $40. Then I spent another month trying to figure out how to make that work, searching for wiring kits, etc. THEN one day I went to Home Depot and came across this single hanging pendant light with a blue glass shade on it. Cost? $14.99 on clearance. Naturally, they were out of stock...in the whole state of Utah. Not to be squelched in my quest (my DIY adrenaline was really pumping at this point), I asked the orange apron helper-man if I could just buy the display one. He agreed, arranged it with the cashier, and off I went, smiling ear to ear. THEN I noticed that they had only charged me $.01 for it (that's one penny, folks). When I went back to the cashier, she said that was no mistake. Wahoo! I think I scared her a little with my glee.

I went home (could I MAKE this any longer??), took off the blue shade, spray painted the white plastic parts with silver, and plopped that capiz shade on there. (It was a little harder than that--each strand of shells was individually wrapped in plastic and yards of tape.) Hubby wired it up for me, and V-I-O-L-A, a masterpiece for $40.01:

The great thing is that I have to pass her room every time I go to my room, so I get to admire my genius over and over and over...

Swiss Family Black

2008-08-13T03:06:00.000-11:00

Our annual ward campout was last weekend. This is an event that is spoken of with great reverence in our house, because it is the culmination of all that is good and right in the world. The little shnookies ADORE the ward campout. If it came down to a choice between a day at Disneyland with David Archilleta all to themselves and going to the campout, they would choose the campout. (But first they'd try to get David to come camping with them, because surely he would rather sleep on rocks than be at Disneyland. Who wouldn't, for crying out loud?!!)

This is the 3rd year in a row that we've attended. It's been at the same place each time, and it truly is quite the ideallic situation. Gorgeous location, all the food provided and cooked for you, and all our neighbors there to talk with/play with. Barring a campout at the local Marriott, what could be better? We can never get there early enough for the girls, and they're disgusted with us every time it's time to go home, even though we're the last to leave every year.

One would think that with all of this wildlife fever, we'd be avid campers. Well ... one would be wrong. First of all, Hubby grew up in L.A., and he's gotten way too used to room service in all his travels. I, on the other hand, practically grew up in a tent, waiting for my mom to finish frying the pancakes over the open fire. I get a little jumpy when I insert myself as the mom into that picture. (Yes, I know...it doesn't have to be that way... we could hit MacDonalds on the way in. I never claimed to be RATIONAL, people!) And now while the girls believe that there is no camping outside of ward campouts, why ruin that?? One little excursion on our own, and they'd be hounding us nonstop!

I was actually hoping to invest in a new tent this year, secretly thinking that it would PUSH us out into the wild more often. Somehow, somewhere, I think Hubby picked up on my secret agenda (I guess he's been paying attention a little during our 12 years of marriage after all. Hmm.), so the second he discovers that R.E.I. will RENT tents, he's all over it. Humph!

So we were the ones at the campout in a rented tent. FINE. I was secretly hoping it would be disgusting and defective, but it actually worked quite nicely, even in the rain. I woke up dry and warm. Dangit!

BTW, I'm still buying a tent. But now it'll be a 15-man tent with running water and servant's quarters.

This year was especially special in its specialness because it was Shnookie2's first year being able to attend (which is why our current 4-man tent wouldn't fit us and we needed a NEW one). Typically, this campout is held in July, which is when the older shnookies are in California. We were beside ourselves when they announced it would be in August because that meant we could ALL go! Naturally, Shnookie1 had to work that night (he swears it's a coincidence, yeah right), so he was missing. And Shnookie2 ended up sleeping with a friend in their own tent. SO, things looked pretty familiar in the end.

Although Shnookie3 ended up just a titch bored this year (her friends are getting past the running wild stage), Shnookie4 was practically manic still in her enthusiasm. In the midst of a very animated discussion about nature, she told hubby, "I think camping is my hobby. I just love it so much." Gotta love those all-consuming once-a-year hobbies. Here's one of the chipmunks she fell in love with, eating a left-over piece of pineapple:

Before we left, I had to get a picture of someone performing a requisite Tom Williams outdoor ritual. He never could resist the opportunity to stand on a stump or rock and do a Tarzan call while beating his chest. Can you believe that my kids wouldn't do that for me in front of their friends?! So, here's me, in all my morning-after glory, paying homage to my father: (It took 5 tries cuz the photographer couldn't get her act together through her totally uncalled-for laughter.)

I have to say, it's not just the little girls that love the ward campout--I look forward to it every year too. Two years ago, when I was barely recovering from chemo, we took the leap to attend, and it was like a rebirth for us. There are no words for what it meant to me to be able to do that for our family. Seeing the kids run, bonding with our neighbors, breathing the fresh air, sleeping under the stars...it's all so perfect. So, basically, it could rain and flood and hail poisonous snakes and we'd still be there, just to celebrate and commemorate the fact that we are whole again, and we CAN!!

It took a village and 2 mothers

2008-08-06T06:31:00.000-11:00

I spent a lovely day yesterday with my mother, working on my father's life history. I'm not a huge "geneology fan" (actually not true--I'm a fan when OTHER people do mine for me), but I am a huge Tom Williams fan. Add this to my obsession with old photos, and I was quite content ... although a little ticked that all of these old photos had been hidden from me all these years. But I'm over that (obviously, since I just HAD to bring it up, lol!). Anywho, I came across the most amazing photo, which I fell in love with even before I knew who was in it. So naturally, I must share it!

That youngest baby is my father, next to him is my Uncle Ralph, and the woman is their mother, my Grandma Laurine Williams. I have never met my Grandma Laurine, since she died when my father was just six years old, but I have always felt an affection for her. From what I've heard about her, my father carried many of her traits. She was kind, mild-mannered, and quite intelligent. She wanted to be a mother more than anything, and she had 5 little boys--one of them only a few weeks old when she died.

After about a year, my Grandfather married a widow named Grace Bush, who had 2 boys herself. She is the Grandma I grew up knowing. She raised all of those boys (plus one more they had together) in difficult circumstances, and they are stellar men because of her. My grandfather was a bit of a partier until his later years, so he wasn't around much then. Can you imagine having 5 extra boys overnight, and their father pretty much MIA? She was an incredibly strong woman--thank goodness! A whole generation of family have her to thank for a happy life. Wow. I bet she was too busy to even realize what she was doing for all of us, but I'm grateful. And I'm sure that Grandma Laurine is too.

P.S. - Thanks to Alaina for scanning this awesome photo, and many others. Yes, my niece saw these pics before I ever did, but fortunately, I'm way too mature to let that injustice take hold and fester until I'm consumed with bitterness and uncontrollable rage. WAY too mature.

In a perfect universe

2008-08-03T14:15:00.000-11:00

I know I complain a lot about year-round school, but this is one time I'd like to kiss its face. My youngest are back in school! I have a life again!

I think anyone reading this will know that I love my children so much I could just squish them. I love to do things with them and see them and giggle with them. Just not every single minute of every single day, ya know?? Last summer I had a streak of energy that hit in July, right when their summer break is. We swam, we crafted, we toured the universe, and I LOVED it. It was the best summer ever for all of us. I was actually sad when they had to go back to school!

I just assumed this summer would be the same, only even better! I made lists of the places we would go and the fun we would have. We've actually gone to most of the places, and I hope the kids have had fun, but I'm just not the best fun mom this year. It feels like I was dragging around my carcass through most of it. (Nice image, eh?) I suppose it's not realistic in my 'condition' to think that my bouts of energy will coincide with those 4 measly weeks of summer every year. Sigh. But I'm still putting in my request for next year, just in case it helps.

In the meantime, I'm waking up each morning, sending my girls off to school, relishing all the while that I have 6 whole hours to do whatever, whenever, however I like. Naturally, I head straight back to bed...but those few minutes of big plans are heaven.

Consumer Alert

2008-07-26T09:40:00.000-11:00

We went to Seven Peaks--one of those water parks on steroids--this week, and it was fun! But let's not dwell on the positive. I had bought a can of spray-on sunscreen, because that extra effort of having to RUB on the stuff had gotten to be just too much for me. So I sprayed, and I sprayed, and I sprayed my little heart out. The girls were covered. (And by girls I mean the real, little human girls--not "THE GIRLS" like they mean on Oxygen T.V. Although, those ones were covered too, and the world thanks me.) I sprayed some shots on me in what I like to call the 'a sunburn here makes me incredibly grouchy' spots. Mainly, these spots are the very top of my legs, the bendy area just next to the armpits, and my back and shoulders. All of these are areas that hurt like the dickens when trying to sleep, move or breathe. On top of that, they are NEVER exposed unless I'm at the pool, and then I just pretend I'm invisible anyway. So why have them tan? This is my reasoning for just hitting them with sunscreen from the get-go. (I have many rituals, er routines, when it comes to sun exposure, but let's save that for another time. Can't wait.)

After we'd been at the park a couple of hours, I started to notice the girls (again...real little humans) getting a tad pink. So I reapplied. I know you're always supposed to do that with any sunscreen, but I usually don't and have never had trouble with it. But this time I DID. On them, mind you--not on me, because I can't SEE me nor the lobsterish transformation beginning to take place.

Soooo, you might have guessed by now that my new spray sunscreen did not work all that well. A half hour after leaving the park, we were in pain. The girls (again...) weren't terribly red, but they're little girls and felt for sure that they were going to die of pain. Since I'd used it only on the above-mentioned never exposed parts, I couldn't see the red, but I sure began to feel it. It's 3 days later, and I finally can wear clothing again (not that I am, but I could if I wanted to. hee).

In case you missed it, I set out to protect the tenderest parts from sun damage, and by so doing, ended up burning them and only them. That, my folks, is what people like to call irony.

But here's the public service part: DO NOT BUY BANANA BOAT KIDS SPF 30 SPRAY SUNSCREEN.

Learn from my mistakes. Now that I think about it, that could be the theme of my blog. "Learn From My Mistakes."

And maybe it'd make me smarterer

2008-07-25T14:12:00.000-11:00

I want one of these so bad I can taste it! (Not sure what that means, hmmm)

Here's the top 4 reasons I need a SmartCar:

4. I'd be saving the planet
3. I'd be saving money on gas
2. I'd be saving my sanity, since there's no room for kids or dogs, if you KWIM
and
1. I'd look incredibly cute.

Afterall, what else really matters?

They're Ba-ack

2008-07-17T14:13:00.000-11:00

It's that time of year again, and hallelujah that it came earlier this year than usual. MY TEENAGERS ARE BACK!! They were only out in California 2 weeks this time, but it always seems longer than it actually is. (How we'll survive college and missions, I don't know. Maybe cloning will be viable by then.) Shnookies 3 and 4 were beside themselves. They decorated the garage with Welcome Home signs, and they made Boozer a T-shirt to wear. Pics:

Doesn't Shnook 2 look so much older? She got a chic new do, which we l-o-o-o-v-e! And Boozer wearing clothing? I could not stop laughing. UNTIL...he went in the back yard and it got in the way of his 'business.' Not pretty.

The boy was so happy to be reunited with his dog. I may frame this pic, since I caught him actually smiling.

So they got home Sunday late afternoon. On Monday morning early, Shnookie 2 went to Especially For Youth (a week-long conference for teens) in Logan. Shnookie 4 was NOT happy about this arrangement. She's quite sure we did this just to tick her off. And when her brother left on Wednesday for a 4-day scout camp, that was all the confirmation she needed of her conspiracy theory. She may never trust us again.

All the good ones wear red hats

2008-07-11T22:12:00.000-11:00

I am really, really supposed to be asleep. But I don't think I am. And in my sleeplessness, I remembered a funny story that NEEDS to be told before I can sleep.

A couple years ago, my friend Merrie and I took our youngest children to Boondocks--a place with a huge arcade, bumper boats, paintball, etc. (Yes, we had some money we needed to get rid of.) One of the automatic ticket counter machines gypped me out of a few tickets (heaven forbid...cuz there's a big difference in quality between those 30 ticket items and the 33 ticket ones). So I told the red-hatted employee at the front desk. She said she'd page the repair guy, that I should wait for him by the machine. I did that for about five minutes, which is about four minutes longer than I'm comfortable standing, and then I sidled on over to the closest bench.

I'm still within sight of the machine, but I'm nervous that I'll miss the repair guy. After another 10 minutes, I'm getting pretty worried that I've missed him and that he's on to resolving other mother's desperate problems. But behold, I see a guy approach in a red hat and work shirt, looking around. I run over there lickety-split and breathlessly say to him, "Are you the one I've been waiting for?" This gentleman looks at me, raises his eyebrows, and then says, "I don't think my wife would think so." I follow his gaze to the table full of his family, celebrating someone's birthday.

Wow. Did we have a chuckle over that one.

And, of course, the actual repair guy showed up a few minutes later; greasy, long hair hanging out of his red hat, stale smoke on his breath and a huge God complex due to his power over my fate. Made me want to run back to the happily married man and say, "Okay, I get it, but are you any good with a wrench?"

And now.... I can sleep .... my humiliation lives on the internet.

Farewell Friends and Fame (a tad too dramatic perhaps??)

2008-07-08T11:48:00.000-11:00

In scrapping news...I haven't been doing much of it. Okay, none. I was on 2 teams for years, and loved it, because my dear designer friends, Shawna Clingerman and Kim Giarrusso, are full-on amazing with their talents. And I got to play with all of their stuff! Well, Kim had a baby AND took over The Digi Chick (not as in hostile takeover, lol), so she stopped designing. Something about not having any time? Wha...? 4 kids under 5 and running a business, whatever! So Kim gracefully released all of us on her team a few months ago.

Shawna also had a baby, and was knock-down, drag out sick the whole pregnancy. So I'd been able to keep up with her team...UNTIL she popped that baby out. It's been kit this and kit that ever since (she's like a maniacal creative genius these days!) That's when I started falling behind until I finally feel like this huge dead weight on the team. You see, I have actually been able to be on my feet the last 6 months, and I've discovered that I've got A LOT of real-life making up to do. HURRAY that I've got that much energy back!!! But BOOOoooooo that every detail of raising a family and keeping a house waited around for me. (I don't know why...I don't even do it that well.)

So, although I LOVE scrapbooking, and it has quite literally saved my sanity during the last five years, I have to face the fact that I am just not team material right now. So I resigned from Shawna's team. Sniff. Of course, I can still scrapbook when I have a few minutes, so what I'll really be missing is the on-line community I've been a part of. Those relationships I've formed are as real to me as any I've ever had, and because of how these people got me through my illness, many of them are like family to me. What a gift that is! So I'm NOT giving that gift back, I just know that I won't be on expanding it. Sigh.

And THEN, I'm going through my old emails yesterday and find this one from Digital Scrapbooking Magazine:

I’m writing to you because Digital Scrapbooking magazine and Adobe needs your help for an upcoming project.

Adobe is holding an event in New York City for the consumer press including Family Circle, Modern Bride and Seventeen magazines on June 24. They would like to provide their attendees with sample scrapbook pages created using Photoshop Elements and have asked Digital Scrapbooking to provide samples.

Your layout “Ordinary Magic” from the December/January issue of Digital Scrapbooking magazine is one of the ones we’d like them to show off. We have your layout in smaller form but in order for Adobe to print it out at 12 x 12, we need a new file. Any chance you could use yousendit.com to send me a 12 x 12 300 dpi version of the layout? I will need to receive these files by Thursday evening at the latest so Adobe can have them printed.

NOT a good email to find a month too late. Sigh. But it feels good to (almost) be recognized for something artistic, and I'm thinking "Can I give this up?" Looking for reassurance, last night I say to Hubby, "Am I doing the right thing?" And in his own acutely perceptive way, he says... (wait for it) ... "I dunno."

And this is why I keep him around??? (JK, Honey, I wuuuuuuv you!)

Luckily, I know it's the right thing to do, and I am so grateful and happy to be at this place in my life. I need to dig my heels in and make some magic happen around here!

But is it too much to wish that somebody would recognize my contributions at "an event" in New York City? It could happen. Bathroom Weekly may want to showcase my tips on shining a toilet as only I can do.

(Note to self: Ask cleaning lady how she shines the toilet.)

Trading Spaces Home Edition

2008-06-29T13:44:00.000-11:00

As I mentioned earlier, we have been doing some moving around here--not from house to house, but from room to room. (LOL, don't most people move from room to room, you ask? NO. They just sit in one room day after day after day. So there.) All of this relocation has caused quite a flurry of redecorating. Much more than one puny little woman can do on her own. Does this stop me? NO. Because it's obvious to everyone that no other human could do it as well as me. Therefore, it's pretty much me putting along while my two youngest nag me about my horrifically slow pace in getting their rooms done. Fun times.

Shnookie2 had the audacity to imply that I wouldn't be so slow if I weren't so picky about every little detail. I'm ashamed to even say it, but she actually said, "Everything doesn't have to be perfect, Mom." I gasped and retorted, "I don't even know you anymore!" Sigh. Where did I go wrong?

Okay, so now I'm ready to show a picture of the latest project, and I'm regretting ranting on about perfection. Talk about building up expectations! So take the picture you've created in your mind and scale it back several (5 or 20) notches. Maybe then you won't be so underwhelmed at the final product, lol!

This is Shnookie1's old room, which is now Shnookie3's new room. It was a total boy room...

BEFORE

To a girly girl glam room...

AFTER

We're still working on the details (rug, art, etc.), but at least she's in and loving it! And I'm exhausted. And Shnookie4 is breathing down my neck for her room to be done. Even Vern Yip couldn't work under these conditions!

Zac Efron can breath easy

2008-06-23T07:11:00.000-11:00

About 3 months ago, Shnookie1 was at the mall with his friends, and he got stopped by a talent scout. They were looking for extras to be in High School Musical 3 (being filmed in Utah), so they took Shnook's number and the numbers of 2 of his friends. They actually called him in for an audition a week later. My little girls were OUT OF THEIR HEADS excited...sure their big brother would be the next Zach Efron. They were soooo bummed when he couldn't go to the audition because of work. Way more bummed than Shnook.

We somehow went on with our lives.

3 weeks ago, Shnookie1 was at a skate park with his friends. This time he was approached by a scout looking for skateboarders for High School Musical 3. They took his number and that of another of his friends. This time he was a bit more excited. Being paid to skate all day...be in a movie... sounded like a pretty good gig to him!

A week passed, then Shnookies 1 & 2 went to Park City for a week. Towards the end of the week, Hubby was checking his cell phone voice mail and found a call from the agency, asking Shnookie 1 to come in for an audition...ten days ago. (He doesn't check his messages often, since his mom leaves 8 to 10 a day for him and he needs a big chunk of time to wade through those...I mean, listen to them and take copious notes.) Hubby called the agency, and they said "Oh no, it's not too late, come on in!"

Since it was my turn to shuttle kids to odds ends of the earth (okay, it's always my turn for that), I ended up taking him to the appointment with his 'agent.' What ensued was definitely one of the oddest experiences of my life. First of all, we sat down with Mr. Hollywood Agent, and he said "So, you skateboard and you're good. Darn. We could've used you last week when we filmed for High School Musical. But that's all done." Great. "But since you're here, let me tell you about the books I've written, where to buy them, all the stars I've worked with, the five years I was a Navy Seal, my advanced degrees in political science and English, and the five languages I'm fluent in. Oh, and let me do it in character as the Colombian drug lord I played in my last movie."

Man, do I wish he said all of that so succinctly. Instead, he drew it out for an hour, all the while bestowing strange bits of wisdom upon my son, intermixed with reminders that he (Shnookie) was gonna have to do an emotional reading for the man and CRY during it. This process involved a lot of pontification on Mr. Agents theories about the "man walls" that keep men from crying.

Any one who knows Shnookie1 well knows that he displays only one range of emotion. Evidently, he feels more than that inside (or so he tells us), but on the outside, we see one guy...same expression...24/7. It's literally taken me ten years to figure out when he's feeling something. Even then, I cannot tell the difference between depressed and angry. Elated looks exactly like mildly amused. He's a tough nut to crack. So for someone to ask him to cry on cue; well, I laughed out loud. (Briefly. I didn't want to undermine his confidence. As if anyone would know.)

I've heard those stories about people who can't express emotions except through their acting, so I was trying to keep an open mind, waiting for Shnook to show a sign whether or not he really wanted to go further with this. Eventually, I could plainly see 2 things: 1) Mr. Renaissance Agent Man wanted my son to catch the acting bug so that we would shell out money to them for acting classes, and 2) Shnookie had no desire to cry for the odd little man. (I guess the hour of his squirming, foot tapping and sweaty palms finally tipped me off on that one.)

So I intervened. We left with 3 website addresses (written on a sticky for us by the agent himself): one for an 'extras' site, where you can sign up and they'll call you for extra's roles in Utah movies; one for a website where Shnook could view a clip of Mr. Druglord's latest movie; and one for a site where we could buy his book. I kid you not.

I think that was enough Hollywood to last both of us a lifetime.

No one is safe now

2008-06-20T07:34:00.000-11:00

So very much to say, but no time. (See, not even enough time to form a complete sentence.) However, I just HAVE to post this picture of my little puppy, spying on the neighbors. I was laughing so hard I almost wet my pants.

Yes, those are his own skinny legs holding him up.
I swear, he did this on his own, and it wasn't because he saw me do it! (I'm more of a binoculars pointed at the bathroom snoop.)

Black Look-alike Meter

2008-06-13T16:23:00.001-11:00

Thanks to Jen for directing me to this look-alike meter. Hubby and I are really chuckling, because people always say Jayci looks exactly like him, and Libby just like me. That's not how this meter saw it!

MyHeritage: Look-alike Meter - Free family tree maker - Geneology

Black Look-alike Meter

2008-06-13T16:12:00.001-11:00

MyHeritage: Family trees - Genealogy - Celebrities - Collage - Morph

Either way you put it, it's hard

2008-06-12T06:10:00.000-11:00

At the beginning of this, our first week of summer, I unveiled my brainchild: our motto for this summer:
Aren't I brilliant? Totally came up with that, all by myself. hee
And now it's on the fridge, so it's law.
Naturally, my kids are all for the second part, so they had mixed emotions. In fact, they were somewhat bipolar as we discussed this plan. Glaring and depression during the work parts, instant elation and giddiness at the play parts. Up and down, up and down. That roller coaster ride should count for at least one of the play hard rewards.

The reason I put this theme into place is this: I've been realizing lately how many fun things we've never done that are practically in our front yard. Granted, most of that is because I was in bed for several years, but THE TIME HAS COME. I've also been noticing how neglected our home is (again, the bed thing). That part isn't exactly an epiphany--it's more like I'm suddenly motivated. And with 4 slaves under my command, it will go faster, right? Also, a couple of our kids have been so whiny lately, and nothing cures that like hard labor! (or a few swift kicks to the shins, but that's frowned upon for some reason.)

Soooo, we sat down and made a list. For every 'fun' idea they came up with, they had to come up with a needed project around the house. And after days of negotiations and their lawyers meeting with my lawyers...we settled on a plan. This week we've been taking one room a day to clean, and as a reward (the BIG ONE, as they call it), we're going to Lagoon tomorrow. Wheeee! (<--only half sincere on my part)

Can I just tell you how EXHAUSTED this motto has made me? I still don't have my full energy, so working hard is hard work, and playing hard is even harder work for me. I've gone to bed every night (at 7:00 pm) physically sick from the exertion.

Which just goes to prove that while hard work cures the whinys (whinies?) in children, it has the opposite effect on me. It turns me into a whiner.

I want my mom.

The one day it's NOT all about me

2008-06-04T12:02:00.000-11:00

Yesterday was June 3rd, which in this household has meant "Wedding Day for Lisa!!" Lisa is my dear friend who suddenly became a single mom of 3, two years ago. (Her first husband was a knucklehead--as my dad would say--who thought he'd find greener pastures elsewhere. BTW, he and his "new pasture" bought a house ACROSS THE STREET from Lisa last month. See? Knucklehead. Needless to say, Lisa's house is now up for sale. Anyway...) Lisa met, dated, and married a great guy named Brett, and we're all so happy!

I met Lisa 5 years ago, when she moved here and we discovered that we have not one, but TWO shnookies the same age. She found three other moms who had shnookies the same age, and we formed a play group. We moms became very close. And while our shnooks are all older now and have moved on to other friends, we moms still do our play group--w/o the kids. So Lisa asked us all to be bridesmaids (or bridesbabes, as I made her change it to, since you're never too old to be a babe) along with...get this: ELEVEN other friends of hers. For the mathmatically challenged, that's FIFTEEN bridesmaids, er babes.

I really hate this picture of me (it'd been a long day), but since I can't in good conscience photoshop myself out, we'll all have to deal. But isn't Lisa GORGEOUS?! And, of course, this is less than half of all the b-babes. See how she had us all get black dresses and then gave us a champagne sash to wear? That was kinda fun. Another playgroup friend, Aleis (to the right of me, looking as fresh as ever, dang her), and I drove up to Bountiful together for the wedding. So there we are, two grown women walking into the temple in matching dresses. Sweeeeet.

But back to the subject at hand. Let me just flood cyberspace with a joyful shout of...
CONGRATULATIONS LISA AND BRETT!!!!

Care for something lacy?

2008-06-03T14:24:00.000-11:00

Shnookie3 attended a birthday party yesterday, for her good friend she's known since birth (10 long years). They went to the local mall and had a treasure hunt. I was impressed--what a clever idea. I'm thinking that her mom, my friend, was indeed a smartie. Then I learned that it was being orchestrated by the girl's father and his new trophy wife. That is when I should've started asking questions.

But NOOOOOO, Mama was just happy to have one less mouth to listen to, so I sent her off for 3 hours of mall treasure-hunting. When she gets back, she tells me how they went to 4 stores--one at a time--where the clerk would hand them a clue to lead them to the next store. Okay, sounds tricky to coordinate (aren't these clerks supposed to be working??), but cool. Then she shows me one of the clues, which I don't get, so I ask her what it meant. She said "Oh, that one lead us to Victoria's Secret." I'm thinking "oh please let there be another Victoria's Secret I don't know about that sells candy." Nope. This step-mom did not think twice about marching a bunch of 10-yr-old girls all the way through Victoria's Secret. My daughter was mortified. She melts into a gooey pile if we enter a department store anywhere near the lingerie section (and those sections are pretty tame, if you KWIM). The 'mom' says to them "Oh, it's no big deal--I shop here all the time." NOT helpful information.

This mall has well over 100 stores. They pick just 4, and one of them has to be Victoria's Secret?? Am I weird to think this is wildly inappropriate?

I was telling a friend this experience today, and she was duly horrified. Then she told me about a friend who'd sent her son to an army-themed party, where the parents gave all the boys BUZZ CUTS. Can you imagine?

Hmmm...now I'm wondering if maybe at Shnookie4's cheerleader party we should've injected air into all of their heads. Tee-Hee, JK, I like cheerleaders, please don't send explosive pom-poms to kill me.

This is PERFECTLY NORMAL

2008-05-26T06:46:00.000-11:00

All three of my tagees answered the tag quiz--thank you ladies, that was fun! Check out their answers:
Julie: http://www.andrewmjs.blogspot.com
Tiffany: http://www.idahocrabtrees.blogspot.com
Jen: http://www.jenslifeisasitcom.blogspot.com

One of Julie's fears is heights over bodies of water. I can totally relate, although my equation is any heights+children=panic. Which reminded me of the movie we saw this weekend. Which was Horton Hears a Who. Which is animated, I KNOW, but has a scene that had me TERRIFIED. I was just fine with that ledge waaaaay above who-ville where the mayor converses with Horton--didn't even really register. UNTIL he brought his little goth who-kid up there. Instantly, my heart starting palpitating, and I could not follow the plot, I could not eat my popcorn, because my brain was exploding with DANGER warnings. As if that weren't enough, he actually lifts the little gloomy guy up over the railing and dangles him over who-ville (was anyone else thinking Michael Jackson at that point?), finally settling him ON the railing. Yes--I KNOW--all still animated people and ledges, but I was rolled into a ball by now. Shnookie 2 started laughing at me, because she could hear me muttering this chant: Get him down, get him down, get him DOWN!

Movies like this should have a special rating for people like me. Maybe PT--for "fuels Parental Terror."

Tagged and Dangerous

2008-05-19T08:38:00.000-11:00

I have been tagged by Miss Becky (http://www.huhandotherreactions.blogspot.com/). And now I am responding. I am trying to force myself not to overthink the answers, because this is, afterall, supposed to be fun, right? And fun is the best when it's spontaneous. Unless you're talking about jumping out of a plane, in which case I think some pre-planning would be in order. Such as bringing along a parachute. Not so fun without. Oh no, now I'm over-thinking fun. But it was spontaneous over-thinkage, so that makes it fun, right?

3 joys:

1. Taking the blue tape off after a newly painted room is done. DO NOT sneak in and steal that from me, because it's one thing I live for.
2. Finding a super-spectacular deal on something I adore. Like the patterned trench I got last year for $40, which I would wear every single day of the year if I could. And I would get at least one compliment every single one of those days, cuz it is SOOO cute. Even when people don't say something out loud, I know they are coveting it inside their head.
3. Thinking of and executing the perfect little act of kindness for someone. I think that joy has tripled for me since I was sick. I was amazed at the small (and big!), creative things people did for me, and I was amazed at what a difference those things made in my day.

3 fears:

1. The "C" word returning. But we don't think about that, so let's move right along...
2. Driving into a deep river and not being able to save all of my children. Honestly, that has kept me awake at night. I asked Hubby the other day what he would do if that happened to him. His answer: "I'd start by not driving into a river." I don't think he gets how the fear game works.
3. I am a bit irrational around butterlies. I got caught in a swarm of them once, and ever since I don't trust them. Especially in multiples.

3 goals:

1. Really connect with each of my children at least once a day. With the younger ones it's hard because they're always there, and so I forget to appreciate them...With the older ones it's hard cuz they're NOT there. (And they run when they see me. JK)
2. Consistent self-physical therapy for my back. In other words, I need to get to that gym and do the 3 measley weight routines the therapist told me to do. It takes literally 10 minutes and I don't even break a sweat. And yet it completely changes how I feel on a daily basis. But somehow it's just too much to ask.
3. To teach my kids--hopefully by example--that 'people are more important than things.' That's the phrase I use on them when their grandparents call to talk to them but they're in the middle of their favorite show. It's what I tell myself when a struggling friend needs me to shop with her but I'm doing laundry. See what a sterling example I am of self-sacrifice?? I'm just all about the peeps.

3 obsessions/collections:

1. I don't think I actually AM addicted to shoes, but I definitely could be if I had unlimited funds. Seriously, I think we're living in the best shoe decade in history. Flowers, polka dots, buckles...and those are just Hubby's shoes (tee-hee). I could own a flat in every color and still keep going. It's times like this I wish I were a centipede. A rich centipede.
2. Okay, I just thought of two more clothing-related obsessions, so let's just generalize and say I could single-handedly keep a few stores thriving. Again I 'could' IF the cash flow were more flowy. For now, I'm just Albertson's unwilling benefactor.
3. Ear plugs. MUST HAVE EARPLUGS. I can't sleep without them, even if I'm in a sound-proof chamber.

Random facts:

1. I can write with my toes. Right now, both you and I are wondering if I could TYPE with my toes. Hmmmm. I'll save that experiment for another day.
2. I cannot remember phone numbers, but I can go through my house and name where every item came from, including who gave it to me, if it was a gift--even my first marriage wedding gifts from complete strangers. Now isn't THAT a useful talent? Comes in so handy when you need to call your neighbor to tell them their house is on fire.
3. I cannot answer tag questions with only one sentence. Seriously.

Okay, so maybe overthinking my answers would keep me from overanswering them. Anyway, I'm gonna tag Julie in New York, my niece-in-law Tiffany, and Jen in Arizona (unless there's some reason her own sister didn't tag her, in which case she's off the hook.)

Tasteful yet Raw....okay, just Raw

2008-05-09T10:17:00.000-11:00

We did such a yuppy thing last week--we went to an actual dog park. And--unlike the strange man wandering around there muttering--we took an actual dog with us. OUR dog, even. But wait--it gets better! We had an actual doggy date. And not with just any dog, not with just ONE dog, but with Boozer's whole local family! They had not seen each other since we picked him up and took him home, 4 months ago.

Said family consists of Boozer's mother, Tana, his uncle (Tana's brother), Chewie, and Boozer's sister (Addy). Then there are the two humans who scooped his poop for the first 3 months--the Bennetts. We'd been trying to arrange (with the humans) a get-together for weeks, and everyone was very excited. The anticipation hung in the air. Visions of tearful reunions danced in our heads. Then we realized why no one makes movies out of dog reunions. It's a mixture of inappropriate sniffing, total apathy, and familial love triangles you don't even want to think about. Seriously! Boozer's mother, Tana, really had the hots for poor Boozer and kept sneaking up on him. Then she'd crush him with her weight. I don't think she was giving him a motherly hug. I felt like I was in a bad doggy greek tragedy!

I took soooo many pictures, trying to get that perfect family photo for Booze to hang on his doggy fridge. We even tried to force them to sit together. Yeah, right. These are big dogs...they do whatever they want. But I got some cute ones, like this one of Boozer meeting his sister:

In case you can't tell, (ha-ha) Boozer is the one in front. He's redder than she is and more lean, but it's freaky how much they look alike.

Then came the sniffing portion of the event:

I don't know who that pug is or how he fits into the family (there's always one at these reunions), but he certainly dreams big. Here he is tag teaming with Addy in the "Getting to know Boozer" warm-up mixer:Okay, yes...I was the crazy perverted lady taking pictures of doggy interactions whilst the other humans discreetly looked away. But somehow a few non-sniffing photos snuck in. Here's one with the whole family, albeit their behinds (but I SWEAR I didn't do that on purpose.)

That really big one is Chewy, the uncle. He is about 165 lbs, and Boozer is expected to be at least as big as him. It's hard to even tell without a human reference point in the picture, but he is massive. Gulp.

And finally, the two merged families walking back to the car (labeled for your convenience):
(Notice how Tana still has her eye on Boozer? Shameless!)

So, now that I've published this, how long do ya reckon before Disney comes knocking on my door? The first doggy reunion drama on the big screen. I think I'm their woman.

Betcha it was Al Gore

2008-05-05T17:19:00.000-11:00

The latest rantings of my 9-yr-old teenager:

Me: "Shnookie, you need to read."

Her: "I don't want to read. Reading is stupid. I HATE reading. I wish the person who invented reading was never born."

Exit stage left, stomping excessively.

Happy, Happy May Day. Grrr.

2008-05-01T03:24:00.000-11:00

MAY 1, 2008... Yes, that's MAY!!

Shnookie 3's birthday is May 23rd. This morning she said "Mom, I hope it doesn't snow on my birthday." I was about to assure it wouldn't and stopped mid breath. At this rate, who knows? We may be lighting sparklers in this stuff.

I changed my mind--I WILL be sending something to Mother Nature for Christmas. Boozer will be involved. With any luck it will still be warm when it gets to her.

It really is hip to be square

2008-04-26T10:25:00.000-11:00

Look at me, 3 posts in one week! I just have so much to share, because I've been a busy beaver blogger. We are switching around the kids bedrooms, which affects 3 rooms: moving, cleaning, and--of course--redecorating. It's not as easy as switching seats at the theater, let's just say that. Shnookie 1 is moving to the guest room in the basement, which leaves his room open for Shnookie 3 to leave her younger sister's room. Basically, all 4 kids will now have their own rooms. Too bad we don't have just one more room to put Hubby in, and then *I* could have my own room! HaHa JK

So now that I've explained all that, here's the photo I wanted to share, which has absolutely nothing to do with any bedrooms! It's all connected in my brain, though, because I've been shopping, shopping online for all this redecorating stuff. Packages arriving every day...HURRAY! I have wanted to get some floor tiles from FLOR.com for-ev-er, and I finally did it!

This is our little entry hall from the garage. It gets A LOT of traffic, so every rug I've ever put there gets destroyed or else slides around so much (even with carpet pads) that it's incredibly hazardous--or fun, depending on how you look at it.

Enter FLOR tiles! They're 19 inch squares of carpet that stay put, are eco-friendly, AND they can be WASHED OFF IN THE SINK!! On top of that, you can mix n match and make all sorts of patterns. (You don't want to know how long I spent playing with different combinations on-line! I really had way too much fun than is normal.) I want to put them under my kitchen table and in the hardwood floor bedroom, but I thought I'd better start small. Check it out at www.FLOR.com if you haven't already. Tell them Erin sent you, and......they'll have no idea what you're talking about.

How's your Spring going???

2008-04-25T04:37:00.000-11:00

Yesterday. April 24th. 2:00 p.m. My front yard.

APRIL 24th, PEOPLE!!!! I am so not sending Mother Nature a Christmas card this year.

REMEMBER! You asked for this!

2008-04-21T14:18:00.000-11:00

I had a couple of requests to know how the kids managed while Hubby and I went to New Orleans. This is me responding to my public: The kids did GREAT! It appears, however, that the dog was deeply traumatized. He was tense and clingy (in a huge dog sort of way) for the first week we were back--wouldn't let us out of his sight, got really so-frantically-glad-to-see-you hyper when we'd walk in, etc. That part was tolerable, even kind of cute sometimes. Not even remotely tolerable was the two times he went outside, ate his own poo and then threw it up on my family room carpet. I'm all for expressing your feelings, but this form is not my favorite. In fact, I have never had the dry heaves so bad in my life. I could not even go near the room. So, AREN'T YOU SO GLAD YOU ASKED??

And to hopefully erase that image before you leave me, let me reiterate that the kids all seem more than fine--no feces regurgitation that I've noticed. (Oh, oops--erase that image too.) We were really proud of them with how they took care of each other, followed the schedule, and even cleaned the house before we came home! They are better at the whole domestic thing than I am, and I'm not one bit offended.

New Orleans: The Slideshow

2008-04-16T03:09:00.000-11:00

Look who downloaded her photos! Lucky you!!

Us in a horse-drawn carriage just as we're starting the most amazing tour of the French Quarter. Seeing this pic, I'm definitely re-thinking those shades. Hmmm.

Lance with his new golden best friend. (Yes, he's real. And the golden guy too. hee)

Lance's maternal side hails from New Orleans (his mother was born and raised there.) HOWEVER, I did not see in proof of that. What I DID see was this. I will be returning with all of my relatives to claim our original homestead.

Jackson Square with the St. Louis Cathedral, at night. (Okay, this photo may have been Photoshopped a little.)

And finally, I thought you might like to see our new winter home. If you look closely, you'll see me up in the balcony sipping a mint julep.

Ya'll come back now, Ya hear?

2008-04-11T05:33:00.000-11:00

Here I am, in the Big Easy!! (Do NOT read that without the 'in.') Hubby had to go to New Orleans for a conference, so he invited me along. The kids are all at home, being watched after by a bazillion people (it takes a village!). THANK YOU everyone!! I seriously almost didn't make it--it was just one thing after another going wrong, all the way to the second I walked onto the plane. Really--you'd think I'd get a clue and give up, but I was pretty determined. (Remember--I'm VERY GOOD at being gone, and you don't want to waste that kind of talent.)

Probably the worst thing that happened was that the girl who'd agreed to stay nights with the kids wouldn't return my phone calls. Finally, less than 2 days before we were supposed to take off, she still hadn't responded, and Hubby pointed out that maybe we really didn't WANT our kids in the care of someone who is avoiding us. Even through my have-to-get-out-of-here mania I could see some wisdom in that. So I stopped pressing redial. And hubby took pity on me, got on the phone, and had us the ultimate Mary Poppins within an hour. Her name is Allison, she's the daughter of a dear friend of ours, and my girls are totally in love with her. THANK YOU ALLISON!! I was so grateful to her that I offered to give her one of our kids, to which she emphatically replied, "NO, realllllly, that won't be necessary." Responsible AND smart--what a girl.

I am totally in love with New Orleans, and not just because it's 80 degrees here and snowing at home. No, my love is much deeper than that. For one thing, the food is beyond yummy. Hubby and I went to a place last night to have seafood and chips, and I think I ate through the whole Mississippi. DELISH! You really must try it--Cafe Mesparo's--when you're in the neighborhood.

Now for my funny story (it only took me 3 paragraphs to get to it): We're at Cafe Mesparo's, waiting for our food at our little table, and our attention turns to the three squeeze bottles of condiments displayed prominently in the middle. (Did I mention that Cafe Mesparo's is not exactly a pretentious place?) We're wondering "What is in those?" So I lean over and sniff the opening of condiment #1. No smell. So Hubby squeezes it a little for me and a poof of mayo air reaches my nose. Mystery solved. On to #2. Again, the poof of air, which tells us it's yellow mustard. Great system. So I lean over condiment #3, breathe in, and SPLAT!, Hubby's little squeeze launches a huge explosive blob of dijon mustard all over my face and upper body. After the split second of total shock and urge to shove the bottle up his nose, I start laughing hysterically. As I'm wiping little gritty mustard seeds out of my eyes, of course.

Oddly, that may be my favorite moment of the New Orleans adventure. I suppose it could've happened anywhere, but it didn't. I'll never look at Grey Poupon the same way.

Fool Me Once...and I'll fall for it over and over and over

2008-04-04T07:03:00.001-11:00

I gotta tell ya, I was really dragging on April Fools Day. However, with my pursuit of "Mother of the Year" in full swing, I had no choice but to come up with a prank to play on my kids. So off to FamilyFun.com I went (cuz that's what award-winning moms do, knowing as they do that thinking for yourself is a waste of time). I liked this fake dad one a lot (who wouldn't? He always listens, never criticizes and almost never farts. I think I'm in love.). Hubby was out-of-town, so it seemed like the perfect time to confuse my kids for life. So I stuffed hubby's clothes and rigged a newspaper sheet with cardboard and tape. Like thus:

Okay, so our chairs don't have high armrests like the ones at Family Fun. Which made it hard to get everything tall enough to really imitate Hubby's height. Not that I didn't try--I have the five miles of wasted packing tape to prove it.

So one by one the kids come trickling in from school. Each has the exact same reaction, stopping dead in their tracks, uttering a "What the?", and then hesitantly approaching it in an arc to peek behind the paper. Then they turn to see me snickering and start laughing. And guess who each one of them thought it was? Not Hubby, but Grandma Dixie. I can see that. Plus, she's so hard-of-hearing, that she doesn't hear people enter a room, which is much like this fake.

The kids had fun inviting their friends all over and fooling them. Shnookie 2 even yelled loudly at it "Grandma! Look! So-and-so is here! GRANDMA!!" Good times. We just left it there for a few days, and it would freak each of us out EVERY time we came around the corner. (Oh my, that sounds even lamer when actually written down! Yes, we're just that stupid.)

Whistling Dixie

2008-03-28T06:04:00.000-11:00

I know we have some Dixie fans out there, and you’re gonna love the latest. (If you are an existing fan, you can skip the next paragraph.)

My mother-in-law, Dixie, is 89 years old. She has always been an interesting person—very vivacious, outgoing, and opinionated. Her general health has been amazing…physically, anyway. The last ten years she’s had some memory problems. And when she suffered a heart attack 3 years ago, that department took a real hit. She has not lived alone since then, although she is quite convinced that she could. She spent the first 2.5 years of this arrangement telling each and every one of us 20 times a day that she was gonna move to an apartment and get a job. I won’t elaborate on the highlights of the period she lived with us, but suffice it to say that in her world, I am a closet thief (specializing in cars), stalker, brake tamperer, and poisoner extrordinaire. What I like about her world is that I evidently have a lot of time on my hands, which would be nice. What I don’t like about her world is being accused of said crimes 15-20 times per day, usually when I’m trying to watch my favorite shows. So….that arrangement didn’t work out very well. We ended up finding her a very nice apartment in an assisted living facility. She was still miserable, though, and the management kept calling to report her latest escapades.

Enter modern medicine. HALLELUJAH!! After the place threatened to turn her out unless she was medicated, hubby went through the painful and exhausting process (because he had to re-talk her into it every 15 minutes) and got her on some anti-psychotic meds. Presto Change-o!! Two days later she was a new woman—cheerful, peppy, and much-less inclined to call us all day to share her despair. Oh, she still only has 15 minutes of short-term memory, but at least those 15 minutes are pleasant! (She’s been wishing hubby a happy birthday for 3 weeks now. But isn’t that sweet?) And she hasn’t accused me of plotting against her for MONTHS!

I think the best part of her new, cheerier state is that she’s gotten out to meet people at her place. And she’s the belle of the ball, which is where she thrives! About a month ago, Hubby went to see her, came around a corner, and ran into her holding hands with a man! Thereafter, we heard a lot about Ike (including some things we’d rather not hear--like how much he likes smooching). Every day she’d call to say they just got back from their first date! She was going to introduce me and the girls to him one day when we were visiting, but she couldn’t remember where he lived. (He’s in her same building.) After wandering around the halls for 20 minutes, we had to leave. But I hear he’s very sweet (and lucid even). I don’t know if he has all of his teeth, but he seems like quite a catch. And hey, he gets to be with a woman who falls in love with him every day. I like to think it’s like ’50 First Dates.’ But much less sexy. Ewwww.

So, speaking of EWWWW, last week Ike and Dixie broke up because of something involving a bed which we try to tell ourselves means a napping incompatibility. Basically, he wants ‘napping’ to be part of their courtship, and she doesn’t (probably because they’ve only been on one date, for goodness sakes!!) Two days later, which would be Tuesday of this week, she called to tell Lance that SHE’S GETTING MARRIED. Monday. I guess that’s what you call a compromise on the napping issue. Those crazy kids.

And now I’m going to take a long shower…or maybe an acid wash.

All By Myse-e-e-elf

2008-03-21T17:14:00.000-11:00

I am at a hotel. ALONE. Five miles from my house. Did I mention ALONE? That really is the important part here.
Hubby was out of town on business this week in Florida. I think something clicked inside him this time as he was lounging on the fluffy bed, eating room service and flipping through channels. (Because--as we all know--a man's retina will spontaneously explode if he settles on one channel for more than 5 seconds.) Maybe he'd just hung up from talking me out of selling our children (again). I don't know. But in some "EUREKA" moment he realized that Hotel life can be a lot more rewarding than home life, and maybe a little Hotel time would be good for ERIN. So he sent me off this afternoon and FORCED me to check into the Hampton Inn. Alone. I put up a slight fight, because I'm the cheapest person on earth, but I knew he was right, and so did he. So the resistance was mostly for show. I didn't even push it when he insisted I NOT stay at the Motel 6. I'm getting soft, it's true.

I've been gone from home for 6 hours. I'm supposed to be resting, but I get this strange urge when I'm left alone with no kids in my care. It makes me want to conquer the world. Or at least the mall, which is conveniently located across the street from this particular hotel. (Next time he's gonna agree to the Motel 6 in the middle of nowhere! Hee!)

Also, is it weird that I met Hubby at TJ Maxx 30 minutes after checking in? Somehow seeing him outside of the house makes all the difference. It was my idea, and it was fun.

I know there are a lot of mothers who can't relax when they're away from their kids. I've just never had that problem, even when they were tiny. Just another one of my talents: I'm good at being gone.

In search of a support group

2008-03-12T09:20:00.000-11:00

I suffer from second-hand chocolate. This is how it works: I purposely do not buy any chocolate (at least not the kind I like). The man I live with, however, buys all sorts of chocolate. Almost daily. And then he leaves it--OPEN--all over the house. The good kind, like almond-toffee chocolate bars. Every time I walk by it, it's like I have no choice but to partake. IT'S FORCED ON ME, I tell ya. Much like a woman married to a smoker. Therefore, I am a victim of second-hand chocolate.

Ode to Shnookie4

2008-03-05T10:33:00.000-11:00

As you know, Shnookie4--my baby--turned 8 recently. I seem to have established a pattern of writing a tribute to each child on his/her b-day; therefore, let's put my youngest under the microscope.

BTW, there will be no mention of alcohol in this post, BECKY. (Okay, not including that time. I was just mentioning alcohol in passing.) (Dangit. Maybe I really am obsessed with alcohol.) (Aaargh! I need a drink.)

Shnookie4 is an amazing kid. As she grows up, we keep discovering new talents she has. If this continues, she's gonna be an adult royal pain with her perfectness! Physically, she has always been slightly on the smaller side. When she was just 7 or 8 months old, she got RSV, and it was a pretty rough year after that. She caught EVERYTHING, and then she'd get dehydrated. We spent a lot of time in the hospital that year. Finally, she got so bad while on a family trip to Colorado, that we had to admit her to the ICU for several days. She literally almost died. We don't know if that year has anything to do with her petite-ness, but every day she got stronger after that, we cheered.

This girl loves order in the world. As a baby, she'd methodically remove her diapers from the basket and lay them end to end to create huge patterns. I have to admit, it was a little unnerving to walk into a room and see a giant crop circle where there was none before. Hubby got a bit worried that she was driven by voices to create satanic symbols in our home. (I told him that just because HE hears voices, doesn't mean everyone else does.) As she grew up, her scope of tools widened, and she experimented with lining up all sorts of things. But mostly her clothes. We had paths of OshGosh droppings everywhere.

So guess who grew up to love patterns?? Give her beads of different colors, and she's engrossed for hours. Modern theories in education have discovered that patterning is the foundation of math. So guess who is good at math?? The truth be told, she's good at all school subjects and gets excellent grades. Parent-teacher conference is so awkward, since the teacher and I just stare at each other for most of it. Once the "she's amazing" and "I wish all my students were her"s are out of the way, there's not much to talk about. Every mom should have such problems, eh?

Hubby always says that Shnookie4 is "just so darn CAPABLE." If you ask her to give her teacher a note three weeks from Wednesday at 2:30, she'll be there, a few minutes early, note in hand. Smiling ear to ear. No reminder necessary. It's like she was born with a Franklin Planner for a brain. And this kid does not let anything stop her. If she needs a cup on the top shelf? She drags into the kitchen a 50-pound chair from the other room, climbs up on it, steps over to the counter, and scales shelves until she can grab it. Then reverses the whole process (remembering to replace the chair to its original space, of course.) I don't think "Help" is in her vocabulary.

Combine her can-do attitude with her loving spirit, and she's a wonder. At Christmas, she casually asked me what that book I wanted for Christmas was. I told her and watched as she meticulously copied down the title on a piece of paper. I went back to cooking. Ten minutes later, I stumble over her and my laptop on the floor of the family room. She's got Amazon.com up and is searching for that book by its title. I was stunned. And half-tempted to just let her keep going and see what she offered them for payment.

Shnookie4 may be a mere eight years old, but she's definitely an old soul--wise beyond her years and a pleasure to be around. I hope she'll never stop wanting to sit by me to watch American Idol, and that she'll greet me each day with that smile for a long time. Someday I'm gonna have to share her greatness with the rest of the world, but for now I'm hanging on to every last sweet morsel of her. Love you, Bibber!

2008-03-04T04:01:00.000-11:00

Shnookie4 turned 8 on the 24th, and Hannah Montana reigned supreme! It is so weird for me to think that there will be a generation of girls in the not far off future that will say "Hannah who?" Right now I could swear she's a member of our family with how much her presence is felt around here. Anyway, here's my little pre-teen pop rocker with her new Hannah gear:

(Sorry for the lame late-winter indoor lighting photos!)
Yes, that is a Hannah Montana wig she's sporting. Just another way we're trying to contribute to the well-being of the poor little Billy Cyrus off-spring. You do what you can in this cruel world.

Right after turning eight, Shnookie4 got to be baptized. (The LDS faith baptizes at 8 yrs instead of as babies, since older children are better able to choose. See http://www.lds.org/ldsorg/v/index.jsp?vgnextoid=bbd508f54922d010VgnVCM1000004d82620aRCRD&locale=0&sourceId=1af539b439c98010VgnVCM1000004d82620a____ for more information. Kay.) It was a VERY. BIG. DEAL. and special for a lot of reasons, one of which is that Shnookie1 (who is 16) got to baptize her. Did I cry or what??! I had been so busy all month preparing for this big day, that I was totally unprepared for the wave of emotion that slammed into me when they were in the water together. And then he gives her a big hug before helping her back up the stairs. HELLO! Nail in the coffin (so to speak--not the best phrase to use here, lol) for Mom's emotional control. Luckily, I had to rush in and help her change, so the all-out blubbering had to wait. Here they are together:

I'll pause here to allow you to complete your "ooohing" and "aaaahing" over her stunning dress, which I just might have made myself. I know. I'm crazy. But I had made Shnookie2 a dress when she was baptized. And when Shnookie3's time came, I went so far as to buy the fabric for a dress, before realizing the obvious--that recovering from chemo and sewing a 5-layer jewel-encrusted gown did not mix. (Shnookie 3 has VERY elaborate taste.) So along comes Shnookie 4's time, and I have $100 worth of fabric from the previous aborted attempt. What would you do? (Don't answer that. I know. I'm crazy.) *I* would lose all reason, buy a slightly simpler pattern, and spend 40 hours making Shnookie 4 her special dress. Which apparently I did. (Much to Shnookie 3's changrin. "NO FaiRRRRRRR...that's supposed to be Myyyy dresssssss!") She looks beautiful, though, doesn't she?

My oldest and my youngest. Sigh. I am one lucky mama.

Mac Betty

2008-02-20T09:39:00.000-11:00

It has come to my attention that Mac users cannot see the lovely shade of pale green of my comments link. I think the word 'prejudiced' was flung out there. In my defense, it is not *I* who has anything against Macs. No, it's BETTY. She's a Mac bigot. She regularly says that Macs suck. I, of course, tell her that we don't use that word in our house, but she can be very belligerent, especially after a few drinks. (Hey, what she does on her own time is none of my business.) However, after 2 of my 3 readers point out the same problem, I have to step in. So I've convinced her to change the color to white. She says if you can't see that, then it's time to get a real computer.

(Again, her words, not mine.)

Give me a 1...Give me a 4....

2008-02-17T08:54:00.000-11:00

Shnookie2 turned 14 on February 10th. It's hard for everyone else to believe, and in some ways it is for me (like I remember pushing her out of me JUST YESTERDAY), but mostly, her getting older is never a shock to me. She's just so darn mature and capable and poised, and I think I'll vote for her for president. The funny thing is that she's a little short for her age, so when we go to restaurants, they often give her a kids' meal, which makes her about as mad as she ever gets. But those hostess-people don't KNOW her; otherwise they'd be asking her if she'd like a wine list. Okay, that didn't come out right: My daughter is NOT an alcoholic. She's just so mature that we who really know her sometimes forget she's not an adult. Not that we forget and give her alcohol ever. Not that she'd take it, because she's a good girl. Not that people who drink are bad. (Afterall, I did name my dog Boozer. Not that he drinks alcohol. Not that I'd stop loving him if he did.)

Sooooooo....Shnookie2. This year was technically what we call a 'family year,' in that we don't have a friends party, but I told her she could have a few friends over. I said that because I know she'd do it all--and I do mean all--by herself. And she did. She made invites, she bought all the decorations and goodies (I did force a fiver on her to help out), she researched party games on the internet, she decorated, and she directed the whole gala herself. My only job (self-imposed, btw) was to relieve the teenagers of Shnookies 1 & 2 every once in awhile. But mostly I just lay in bed watching TV. I can handle that.

That party was Saturday night, the 9th. On her actual b-day, she begged me to 'let' her make her own cake. This girl loves to bake. And she does not know the meaning of simple. She ended up making 4 dome cakes that she decorated and inverted to make Barbie dresses. Here's the pic:

After she spent 4 hours making these cakes, we spent 2 minutes devouring them, and she turns to me and says "Thank you Mom for letting me make these." And I said "Hey, my gift to you." Do I need to say it again? PERFECT CHILD . . . . . . PERFECT PRESIDENT
yah baby.

Seriously, every week someone different is telling me what a treasure Shnookie2 is. "She's so sweet" "She's always happy" "She's so helpful" "She's the best babysitter we've ever had" and on and on and on. My response these days isn't "Thank you," it's "Isn't she amazing? I feel so lucky." It just doesn't seem right to take credit for the personality this child was born with and has made blossom all on her own. I swear she could've been plopped down in the middle of the desert and somehow figured out how to be Mother Theresa. A couple of weeks ago, she casually mentions to me that she's going to pick girls at her school who are so sweet but don't have many friends, and annonomously slip an encouraging note into their lockers. She's so incredibly kind to EVERYONE, including her siblings, and--more shockingly--to me, her mother. She tells me at least once a week what an incredible mother I am. I know--can we bottle that?

This may seem like an odd thing to point out, but I have admired her lately with how little she gossips. At an age when girls live to dis other girls, she has nothing but glowing things to say about everyone. I know that her friends feel like they can confide in her, because she'll stay mum forever about other people's business, even if they don't expressly ask her. As a mother, it's very frustrating, cuz how am I supposed to know the goods on my neighbors if she won't spy for me through her friends???! hehe

It's one of those things where she's so perfect that, as her parent, you freak yourself out every so often, wondering if she's obsessive about perfection and she's gonna snap any day. Like she'll start ranting "NO WIRE HANGERS!!!" and shave all her hair off and we'll hear about it on YouTube.

I learn things from this kid every dang day. I hope that we always stay close, that she'll always share with me her life. Because it's gonna be phenomenal, and I am blessed to have her example for inspiration. Love you, my baby love.

They grow so fast...

2008-02-06T04:39:00.000-11:00

I was prepared for Boozer to grow fast...I thought. Afterall, we once had a Newfoundland who started out 1 pound at birth and was 140 lbs at one. I knew he grew so fast that I only had one semi-good picture of him as a 'baby.' I learned from that and have been taking TONS of pictures of Boozer (I'm sure the kids feel a little slighted. Sibling rivalry and all that), but 4 weeks later and LOOK . AT . HIM:

(And may I remind you, you are supposed to be looking at the DOG, not at the sheet hanging in my entryway. From a fort my girls made 3 WEEKS AGO but have not looked at since. Cuz that's how we roll.)

So Boozer resides in our guest bathroom (because it has a tile floor...think it through...ah-hah), and we've put up a baby gate in the doorway. To get him in or out, you have to lift him over it. Well, I'm quite sure I'm in my last few days of being able to do that. The poor guy runs from me when he can tell I'm about to lift him in, cuz it ain't pretty. I think we're both stripped of our dignity from the ordeal. I have to wrap my arms from behind around his middle, heave him up into the air while quickly shifting to grab one hind leg for leverage. This leaves all his 'business' exposed to the world at large. Once we get to the gate, (which, unfortunately, puts us face to face with a mirror) I have to use my ab muscles and a well-place leg to propel him over the gate. At this point, he usually starts squirming, eager to end the humiliation. Sometimes he lands square on his face, but the deed is done.

Just be glad I don't have pictures of THAT to share.

Oh, this would be a good time to share a story: We (the humans only) are eating dinner around the kitchen table the other night when we hear a familiar sound--a toilet flushing. But a quick look around the table confirms that all six of us are indeed seated at the table. We all rush to Boozer's bathroom, and sure enough, he'd somehow flushed his toilet! I half expected to see him sitting on the pot, reading the paper! (There would definitely be a photo in that!) But actually, he was cowering by the door, staring at the white fixture that had somehow made the scary noise. So here's me with my fingers crossed, hoping he'll figure out the rest of the toilet procedure and we'll never need a pooper scooper again. It happens in movies, right?

And finally, I've taken a pic of Boozer every Saturday to document his growth. Here's the series so far: (If you flip through them quickly, he does a little dance :) haha)

January 5, 2008

January 11, 2008

January 19, 2008

January 26, 2008

February 2, 2008

One of those Minivan Moments

2008-01-30T11:41:00.000-11:00

Me and the two youngest girls, driving to church Sunday:

Shnookie3: "Oh man, I forgot my scriptures! I need them in class."

Shnookie4: "Oh no, I forgot mine too. I get so itchy during church."

Me and Shnookie3: "Huh????? Itchy?"

Shnookie4: "No, (duh!) my lotion is with my scriptures."

Aahhhh. Of course. Where else would it be?

Be Yourself

2008-01-23T10:00:00.000-11:00

After 2 months of self-induced deprivation, I finally got back to scrapbooking! What really inspired me to re-leap was a plaque I saw at the hair salon while my girls were being sheared. I would've bought it, but I was suffering at the time from sticker shock--3 girls' cuts in a shi-shi salon can do that to you. I wasn't about to add on the extra $9.75 it would take to own that plaque. (BTW - typical Hubby story: I told the youngest two that we would be going to Super Cuts for their trims, and they would like it. They begged me to go to Salon Chateau--where their indulgent father likes to take them. When I said no, they went and begged Daddy ((the perils of having a work-from-home husband)), and he caved and said he'd take them. HOWEVER, when it comes time to leave, Hubby tells me he has to work. But they've already been promised hair nirvana. So *I* take them. It took twice as long, cost more than twice as much, and was twice the effort I'd planned on exerting. He pulls that bait and switch rubbish on me all the time. And I never see it coming...) Anyway, I digress (I know, how unusual).

Here's the layout with the quote from the plaque at the salon that the Chateau lady built:

And, in all fairness, I have always loved that Hubby takes the time and the drain on his feminine side to take his girls to that salon. And, to his credit, their hair always looks better when they go with him, because he stands over the stylist the whole time. He makes sure they get all the glitter, curls, and bobby pinned froo-froos that their little girly hearts desire. I, on the other hand, am out in the lobby looking at plaques, tapping my foot to get home and scrapbook.

The BIG questions

2008-01-16T10:55:00.000-11:00

I am not a good sleeper. I am, however, a good thinker. Not a good combination. I can lie in bed for hours following completely useless and random trains of thought. You know those people who keep a notebook by their bed so they can record great ideas they have at night? Not one of those people. I tried it for awhile, but I'd get up in the morning, read what I knew at 2:00 am was the answer to the worlds' problems, and then spend the rest of the day mocking myself.

I literally have to trick myself into falling asleep. For years I recited the multiplication tables in my head--backwards, cuz forwards is just too easy. I impressed the socks off my grade-schoolers with my knowledge, but eventually I got bored. So then I switched to picking a topic and then going through the alphabet naming something related to the topic for every letter. NOT backwards, cuz that's too hard, even for my ever-spinning turbo mind. It took a lot longer than you would think to run out of topics, but I've hit that wall recently. Now I've started a time addition system that's really just too complicated and stupid to explain.

By now, you're going "wow, those really do work...I'm fast asleep from boredom!"

BUT ANYWAY, the reason I wowed you with all of this is just a preamble to my real topic today. During one of these those thinking-but-definitely-not-sleeping-fests recently, I contemplated this question: If I were told I only had 24 hours to live, what would I do? (See, not original, and not worthy of writing down.) After I went A-Z on that topic, I must've fallen asleep.

The next day, Hubby and I take Shnookies 3 and 4 out to eat. They are taking FOR-EV-ER at McGraths, so I decide to pose the above-stated question to my family. Their answers were SO like them, that I had to record them.

Hubby: After asking 20 questions (am I rich? am I healthy? am I any less annoying than right now?...), he offers many scenarios, among which is "I'd fly over to the middle east and kill Osama Bin Laden"
Why it's like him: If there is any possible way to be Rambo for a day and not have to bear the consequences, he's all over it. This man's dreams sound like a bad Steven Segall movie on steroids. (ha, ha..."bad+Steven Segall movie" totally redundant!)

Shnookie 3: "I'd go skydiving." (Me: I thought you're afraid of that) "I AM!!! But if I knew I was gonna die anyway..."
Why this is like her: Totally her type of logic. She talks like a daredevil but in real life is afraid of her own shadow. But hallelujah!, cuz with her active imagination and sans the crippling fear, she'd be a parent's nightmare!

Shnookie 4: "I'd spend time with my family."
Why this is like her: A) She's a saint, and B) Because everyone calls her mini-me, and that was my answer. Honestly, is there any other answer?? In the end, it's what we all would do, but I love that Hubby and HIS mini-me are so creative. Honestly, who would you rather party with??

Boozer on the Block

2008-01-08T16:33:00.000-11:00

He's here. They had to drag me kicking and screaming, but we got a puppy. Don't get me wrong, I love dogs, and I get VERY attached, VERY easily...which in a weird way is why I didn't want one. We had a dog named Smokey, but he got to be too much work when I got sick, so we had to give him away. And it almost killed me. And the kids. So I'm scared that will happen again. Nevertheless, my family's dastardly conniving worked, and he's here, pooping and peeing and chewing and howling in my house. But he is the cutest thing EVER. So meet Boozer, our baby Leonberger furry friend:

Isn't that so adorable it curls your toes??? He actually likes to be held this way, and when he's tired, he'll actually nuzzle into my neck like a baby. This is the best part of it all for me, cuz all I miss about little babies is that neck nuzzling. Desire fulfilled. Not for long, though, cuz he's on his way to 175 lbs. rather quickly. So believe me--I'm gobbling up all the nuzzling while I can. I figure I won't be able to even lift him within 2 weeks. I know, you're going what the heck is a Leonburger and why does he get so gargantuan? Answer: it a purebreed mixture of Newfoundland, Great Pyranes, and Saint Bernard. Thus the big.

And now he's howling, so I must go. But first I'll leave you with the image of his sweet little face:

Wii Wish You a Merry Christmas

2008-01-01T17:05:00.000-11:00

We had a wonderful Christmas and ALL of my kids were thrilled. Yay! That has a lot to do with the Wii Santa visiting us! We were SO lucky to get a Wii at Walmart a few weeks before Christmas. I actually called there one morning at 8:30 am to ask if they got any in. They said "Yes we did, but the last one just sold." I was so sad. I decided right then to accept that there was no way we would be getting a Wii. Little did I know that Hubby had actually GONE THERE at 8:15 and snagged the second to last one. Seriously--he had not even mentioned that he was THINKING of getting one. So weird. I kissed his whole face when he showed up with it.

And there was great rejoicing in our household December 25th. The kids were so all over it that I didn't get a chance until yesterday to play it. My 7-yr-old kicked my butt in every single game. And today my right arm is so sore. How lame is that? When I lift it, I feel the burn, and my brain starts to feel proud of me for working out. Then I realize that it's only one arm, and I'm a loser. Sigh.

Only the dust-bunnies know...

2007-12-21T12:49:00.000-11:00

I don't know why, exactly, but I've always stored the kids' Christmas presents under the bed. I know it's not the most discreet of places, but I'm a second-generation believer of "if you want to ruin your own Christmas, go ahead and look at your presents." Oh, I wrap them up in the store bag--even "tying" them shut with the bag's handles (cuz we all know that would stop any curious kid dead in his tracks. "Dang! Foiled again!"). In the early days, I'd even double or triple bag them so they couldn't see through anything. That was mostly because those kids found crawling under our bed especially fun, and I didn't want them coming face to face with their gift. Now that they are a bit more hygienic and less limber, they go under there a lot less. As a result, I tend to just drop the gift on the floor and give it a good kick to get it as close to the center of the bed as possible.

My kids haven't mentioned this brilliantly super-secret hiding spot for years, so I might've started wondering if they'd forgotten. I've never been sure if anyone has even peeked under there. It seemed clear that either 1) they're incredibly clueless and don't heed the material consumption-fest of Christmas, or 2) they're incredibly smart and purposely don't mention it, knowing that to bring it to my attention could possibly cause me to find a better spot (in which case, they give me waaaaaay too much credit).

As it turns out, they're mostly smart, and I found that out thanks to the one with the least experience at subterfuge...Shnookie4 (Bless her cute, innocent heart.) She bought Shnookie 3 a present at the store. When we got home, she walked in the door and said "Now, where am I going to hide this? I'm definitely not hiding it under your bed, cause that's the first place she'll look!" Hmmmmm.

If I had had to guess which one of my kids would peek, it would've definitely been Shnookie3. So that wasn't such a surprise. What IS a surprise is what a good actor she is--she's never made a single suspicious performance on Christmas morning. Scary...and yet quite impressive.

So, am I changing the hiding spot? No. I'm just kicking the gifts harder. If she's intent on spoiling her Christmas, she should at least have to crawl in farther through the dust-bunnies to get there. Hard work like that builds character.

Extreme Makeover: Blog Edition

2007-12-07T12:40:00.000-11:00

I gave BETTY a facelift. Doesn't she look pretty? She deserved it. When I saw the banners Shabby Princess made and that they were on sale, I pounced. BETTY is worth way more than $1.88, of course, but I know she loves a deal as much as I do.

Merry Christmas, BETTY!

When? When? When?

2007-12-06T10:06:00.000-11:00

Here's what I cannot get out of my head this week:
At what age do you figure out that closing your eyes helps you get to sleep faster?

Okay, yes, the remote was missing again, but let's get past that.
Have you ever noticed how kids lie in bed, eyes wide open, until they fall asleep? Granted, it is cool to witness that moment when their eyelids flutter closed, and they fight it, just like in the movies. Yet adults don't do that (with the exception of my husband, who has the ability to start snoring BEFORE his eyes close, every time he lies down to watch TV. But he's always the exception to every rule. I'm used to that.). They climb into bed, snuggle in, and close their eyes. THEN they fall asleep.

Maybe God made it this way so you could sneak up on your kids and be able to tell instantly if they're asleep yet. With adults, you have to do a full-on stakeout, holding very still and watching their breathing patterns. (Again--not so hard with Hubby. Snoring? Sleeping. Sleeping? Snoring. Couldn't be easier.) But who has that kind of time when you've got kids?

Oh, and don't even get me started on kids who think they can fool me into believing they're asleep by closing their eyes. Rookies.

I actually remember being six, and telling my mom I couldn't sleep. And she told me "Just close your eyes, and you'll go to sleep." I thought that was the craziest thing I'd ever heard. As if someone would actually do that! Ha!

I'm thinking that kids see it as surrendering. It's their JOB to fight sleep. Adults? We see it as escaping. Bring it on! The sooner the better! So maybe the exact moment that kids decide sleep is a GOOD thing is the exact moment that they figure out the close eyes-then-sleep thing. As far as I can tell, that's definitely a done deal by the teenage years. But my 9-yr-old isn't there yet. Still fighting the good fight. Soldiering on. Battling the sandman.

So, my current best answer to the "when" question is: somewhere between nine and 13.
I'll keep you posted.

Seaworthy

2007-11-26T07:16:00.000-11:00

Thanksgiving was at our house. It was wonderful. It was exhausting. I've pretty much been in bed ever since. Including most of my birthday. Sigh.

Being in bed so much has given me a lot of time to think (what can I say--I couldn't find the remote for awhile there). It's allowed me the luxury of fine-tuning my "I am made of paper" theory. Seriously, while going through chemo and recovering from it, it ran through my mind constantly "I am made of paper." I'd even say it out loud to people, like that should explain everything. They'd nod as if to say "ahhh...the made of paper condition. Gotcha" and change the subject.

So here it is: being made of paper means being so fragile that the slightest breeze or change in the weather or outside force can ruin you (or at least wrinkle you forever). In this analogy I, of course, am the paper (I think we've established that), and these outside forces are like unto a tiny little germ, missing a nap, or--heaven forbid--being forced to walk to the mailbox (you'd be surprised how evil can conspire against you). Those things can take days...weeks...to recover from when you're in a paper-like state.

As I've been lying in bed this week, it occurred to me that I'm not just plain paper...I am a paper boat! During the dog days of chemo, I was a paper boat made of rice paper: not water-safe in any sense. Just meant to be kept on a shelf out of reach (actually, maybe a really high enclosed cupboard, since I wasn't much to look at either!). I think that last year, I was a boat made of regular paper--could float for a brief time. Currently, I'm thinking that I'm a boat made of coated paper, so I can withstand water better and am stronger. But during weeks like this, my coating is a little thin. Someday, I'd like to be one of those toy boats made of plastic. Even dollar-store plastic would be great! It's probably too much to ask for to be Tonka plastic (surely they make boats, right?), but a girl can dream.

As if all of this weren't fascinating enough (!!), another level just occurred to me: When I had shingles and people asked me how it felt, all I could say is that it felt like I was turning into WOOD from the inside out. Paper...wood...get the connection? Whoa.

So, in summary, I think we can all agree that what we've learned is this: You should never, ever hide the remote from Erin.