T is for...

TREES!

It's true, I have three;
(I am a Christmas geek)
and just like my kids
their all so unique.
My living room tree
is white head to toe
it sparkles and glistens
with snowflakes aglow.

It's not so traditional,
it's a one of a kind;
but I love that it's different,
my clearance tree find!

It's just like my Chelsea
(who's also very white)
she lights up a room
she's bubbly and bright.

And yes, she is different,
but in a good way,
she's a whole lotta fun
and she still loves play.

My downstairs tree
filled with angels galore,
awaits Santa's arrival
and presents implore.

It's a nice sturdy tree,
(it has yet to fall down)
and it brightens the corner
and sheds light all around.
Much like my Kayla,
my angel on earth,
she's brightened my life
since the day of her birth.

She has a tender heart
and is such a selfless soul,
when she's gone for awhile
it leaves such a hole.

And last but not least,
my fun kitchen tree,
it's just a little thing
but as cute as can be.

It gives me such joy
as I'm preparing the meals,
it makes homemaking easier,
gives my cooking appeal.

My sweet little boy,
whose growing too fast,
is the spice of my life
he makes living a blast.

He's the star on the top,
the presents beneath,
the lights that twinkle,
the holiday wreath.

In short he's the one
that keeps Christmas exciting,
wish he'd always stay young,
Christmas spirit inviting.

But I know though my trees
may be frozen in time,
no chance they'll grow bigger
or diminish their prime.

And all I can wish for
as the years go by,
that grandbabies will come
and new excitement supply.

S is for...

SANTA!

Santa! I know him...
that jolly old elf,
his name brings a smile,
I can't help myself.

My memories are fond
of the night he appeared
with his bag full of toys
and his red suit and beard.

I climbed on his lap,
I jingled his bells,
we sang a few songs
and he stayed for a spell.

He emptied his bag,
we didn't make a fuss,
we stood by in awe,
all those toys just for us!

Now some people say
that the holiday season
should be had without Santa,
for he's not the real reason.

But I'm here to say
that he made an impression
on a four year girl
who now has a mission.

I love to be Santa
and spread cheer of my own;
to give hope to the down-cast
and those all alone.

For I know that our Savior
can't be here to give aid,
that's why He has helpers,
his little Santa brigade.

So don't knock old Santa,
he's the Spirit of Giving;
He brings joy to all ages,
and makes winter worth living!

I is for...

INFANT

The baby in a manger lay,
the shepards watched afar;
the wise men from the east did come
while guided by the star.


The night before his birth took place
his voice came to another;
"...on the morrow come I into the world"
He came, our loving brother.

I wonder, did He know that night?
Was the veil of heaven parted?
Did he know right away his path in life,
that His work on earth had started?

Or was this infant born like us
to find His purpose on earth;
did He know as a child his mission,
did He feel of His great worth?

Some answers I might never know,
but of this I know for sure;
that Mary's love for her little babe
was a love like God's, so pure.

R is for...

RED & RUDOLPH

The Christmas colors, red and green,
are such a pretty pair;
I love to adorn my house with them,
it adds a festive flare.

Rudolph has a nose so red
at night it lights the sky;
When clouds are thick and all looks lost
he leads them when they fly.

Now don't tell the kids, but Rudolphs been shot,
Tary threatens to shoot every year;
He's in our living room, red nose and all,
the poor little skeleton deer.

I'm kidding, you see, we just like to pretend
for how else could I let such a sight
stay in the same room with Christmas galore
if I didn't think he had every right.

He's not been disgraced, his dignity stays,
a little tinsel is not a big crime;
we just used our resources to disguise the truth
the elk is our reindeer part-time.

H is for...

HAPPY!

"Happy Holidays" to you
Is the political thing to say;
"Happy Kwanza"..."Happy Hanukah"
However you celebrate the day.

In England they say "Happy Christmas"
I wonder if Dickens is to blame;
But wherever you are, however it's said,
I hope it's a good one just the same!

A "Happy" Day happened 22 years ago,
my first little girl was born;
not in a stable, no manger for her
But a miracle for me to adorn.

And so it continues, this cycle of life
in each little babe sent to earth;
no need to be fearful, no need for tears,
He sends us his miracles through birth.

And each one is special, just like the Christ child
with a purpose to come down and fulfill;
I pray that we'll come to know Him, our Savior
and our lives to reflect of His will.P.S.

My rhythm is off, I know;
my rhyming, a little slow.
I'm functioning half speed,
with cold medicine I need.

I'm drowsy, I'm drippy,
my nose is all red;
all I want to do is
climb back into bed.

But I won't, cuz I can't...
I'm not in habit to complain
just thought an explanation was needed
cuz this post is really lame.

I hope everyone has a HAPPY day!
Chelsea, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Love ya!

C is for...

CANDY!

It's candy day
that yummy tradition,
we invade Wendy's house
and mess up her kitchen.

We dress in our aprons,
(now don't they look cute)
we're ready for action;
a chocolate pursuit.

We stir and slow boil
so carmels don't burn;
with brittle however
we haven't quite learned.

10 pounds of chocolate
you'd think was enough,
but we ran out while dipping,
had to use the cheap stuff.

Chocolates chips don't melt
the way we expect,
and some poor little turtles
have some slight birth defects.

Toffees and truffles,
popcorn and fudge,
chocolates and nut rolls,
my weight shall not budge.

I'll stick to one piece
of candy per day;
at that rate I'll have it
eaten by May.

Unless my family
finds where it's hid,
then I won't have to worry
of pounds to get rid.

C is for calories,
consumed more at this time;
but I say heck, once a year
it's not such a crime.

My Blessings.

I've had a hard time finding time to blog lately, tis the season I suppose, but I didn't want to let the Thanksgiving season get away from me without giving turkey day the credit it deserves. Poor little holiday, it kinda gets lost between Halloween and Christmas, just stuck in the middle like the white fluff in an oreo, but we all know that's the best part. And the Christmas season just wouldn't be the same if it didn't have Thanksgiving to preceed it. Afterall, the thing I'm most thankful for is...
wait. I'm getting ahead of myself here, let me just back up a minute.

This is my 3rd attempt at writing my Thanksgiving blog. My first started as a list as to all the things I was thankful for, but it sounded so, I don't know, routine. Kinda like the dinner prayer. We're all thankful for the same things. Family, friends, a home, good health, blah blah blah. Not that those things aren't important, they all are, and I'm thankful for everything and everyone in my life. It was just kinda boring, and I have such few readers as it is, I didn't want to lose anyone on blessing #137, the heater that comes on that I occasionally sit on and hog up all the heat when my toes are cold.
So then I attempted to write a silly little poem about my blessings. But got hung up trying to rhyme words with "husband" and "basement" and "family", and I didn't think "shunned" and "replacement" and "absentee" would go over too well with the point I was trying to make.
But then something happened yesterday that gave me a whole new perspective about my blessings. I was fortunate to attend the musical production of "The Savior of the World" with a few of the priests and laurels in the stake. It was a beautiful story that told of the events that led up to the Saviors birth, and the events following his death. The spirit was so strong, and the feeling was one where you wished you could bottle it up and take it out into the world with you. It made me wonder why I don't seek out more opportunities to feel the spirit. Why don't I attend the temple more, why don't I study my scriptures and pray more diligently. Why don't I feel all warm and fuzzy all the time? The feeling lasted for a good 30 minutes, till I came home and had to worry about what to make for dinner, and why did Max Hall throw that pass, and why is my laundry basket overflowing again after only 2 days?
But I put on my happy face, went to the market to buy something for dinner, closed my eyes as I walked past the laundry heap, and cheered with the other shoppers as they announced BYU won the game in overtime over the loud speakers. I came home and turned on my merry christmas music while I prepared french dip sandwiches for the family, and as Donny Osmond sang about Mary, "did you know that your baby boy is heaven's perfect lamb, the sleeping child your holding is the great I Am", those feelings I had felt earlier came back with such force, that I realized, that it doesn't matter how long my list of "Things I'm Grateful For" is, without the Savior, none of those things would even be there. My eternal family, the comforts of my home, the food I eat, the clothes I wear, the very air I breathe, wouldn't exsist if it weren't for the Savior. He created this beautiful world and every bounteous blessing that we receive from this earth comes from Him. He sent me to a wonderful family to be raised by loving parents and wonderful siblings to help me on my journey. He guided me to my wonderful husband and sent me 3 wonderful, beautiful children to help me progress like Him. He took upon himself my sins, my sorrows, my pains, so He could comfort me when sad, hold me when I ache, and save me from my mistakes. He did all that for me, and you, so we could someday be with Him again, and with our families, forever. I am so Thankful for my Savior. I love Him, I want to be like Him. I'm trying, but sometimes, ok, alot of the time, I fall short of the mark. But I know He loves me anyway, and doesn't want me to give up trying.
See, this is why Thanksgiving is so important. If for nothing else, to remind me that all blessings come from Him. And now we get to celebrate His birth and thank Him for all that's he's done for us, by giving back to Him, by giving of ourselves to others.

P.S., in case your wondering what #2 on my most thankful for list is...take a look!



My new storage room is finished! (I love my husband)

#138 on my list is PIE!





Unless it's Pecan Pie, then it's up there in my top 10!

Just a warning...this is not a holly jolly post

I have been neglecting my blog lately. Not because I haven't had anything to say, mostly because I've been avoiding this.

My basement is making me CRAZY! Creative juices just don't flow amid chaos and clutter. I know some people work best in a un-organized, un-structured, un-controlled environment, but I'm not one of those people (although my childhood room would have suggested otherwise, my mom will be happy to know I've outgrown my fear of shag and prefer now to actually see the floor I walk on)


My poor husband is working as hard as his little 50 hour a week job, church meetin', mutual attending, football watchin', softball playin', pipe fixin' hands can go...so I can't really be too upset. It's just that, well, do you know what a inch layer of sheetrock dust can do for ones morale? The dusting alone was about to send me over the edge. I hate dusting.



Obviously I've just given up. I just have to remind myself to keep my eye on the prize, keep a eternal prespective, this too shall pass, opposition in all things, look for the silver lining...blah blah blah. Someone called me a Pollyana the other day because I was able to find the positive in what looked like a dismal situation (Super Saturday craft gone wrong), so I'm trying hard to keep a smiley face and look at the bright side of things. Here's what I came up with:

1) I can more easily locate my husband because his white footprints lead the way.
2) I can feel good about my sons bathroom hygiene because I can see that he washes his hands when he's done by the white dust trail he leaves behind on the bathroom lightswitch, the door, the faucet, and the towel.
3) I can serenade my husband after a long day of sanding sheetrock to the tunes of "Frosty the Snowman"
4) Nothing puts you more in the christmas mood than having that permanent "Jack Frost has been here" look.
5) The forcast in our home looks rather promising for a White Christmas.
6) Someone moved the couch for me, so now I get to vacuum up 6 years worth of breeding dust bunnies.
7) I found my lost silverware, .53 cents in change, my Jane Fonda workout video, and the mystery of the missing yogurt has been solved.
8) My husband's hair is whiter than mine.
9) Can't wash dishes cuz the water is turned off.
10) What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and makes for good blogging material.

As I may have mentioned before, my goal is to have my husband finish my storage room by Thanksgiving, so I can deck the halls, and my basement too. And just as he was making real progress, he informed me that he would be making a hole in the ceiling to fix the broken pipe that started leaking this past spring. My house smelled like the bottom of a laundry hamper filled with damp towels for months! I cleaned, I fa-breezed, I almost hired a hound dog to sniff out the source. But clever little me figured it out by myself when I took the picture off the wall that hides our pipe fixture and noticed the wet cement behind it. The hot summer sun dried up all the wetness, and the smell eventually went away. Did I mention this happened in the spring? Well, he decided now would be a good time to get to it. Why not? Tear everything up at once. No sense in making a mess twice, just get it all over with. What's another hole in the wall. Thanksgiving is still a week away, plenty of time.



Husband just informed me the pipe was the wrong size. Another setback. Another delay. Only one more weekend before black friday...what's that you said? You have a softball/snowball tournament this weekend?

SLAM!

Did you hear that? Pollyana just stormed out of the room, good-bye.

Wow, 2 Posts in one...

Post 1

Tary and Linda are pleased to announce
the arrival of their newest addition to the family:
Ophelia Oven (Opi for short)
delivered on Oct. 4th, 2009 at 5:35 pm
Weight: 120 lbs.
Height: 37"
The family loves and adores her as she has already made herself an invaluable member of the family. We are so proud of the things she can already do:

She can bake bread, bake pies, and recently baked this delicious cake!

She fills our home with delicious aromas, graces our table with hearty casseroles,
and satisfies our souls with goodies galore.
We all hope she'll be with us for a very long time (unless that is, I win the $30,000 kitchen makeover from Taste of Home). Welcome to the family Opi!

POST 2

Halloween has come and gone. It was another successful year for the candy conisseure. We went up to Layton again this year to celebrate Cindy's goulish birthday, only she was confined to her home with sick kids, so we celebrated the hallowed night without her. Trey went as Napoleon Dynamite. It was the easiest costume I've ever done. Poor kid, looked just like him with his Dad's old glasses, all I had to do was deface a old t-shirt and call it good.
Chelsea had fun making up her cousins, and herself. And Kayla was, well, we were just happy that Kayla was there. She was a tired Student/Maceys employee/cowgirl. The weather was very cooperative, not too cold, and the streets were alive with little goblins and gouls. It was a fun night, thanks Wendy!
And now that Halloween is out of the way, I was so looking forward to my day off on Monday so I could clean my house to the jolly tunes of 'Jingle Bell Rock' on the radio. Imagine my dismay when I tuned in and only got 'Tears to Fears'. That pretty much sums up how I felt. How could they not be playing christmas music? I admit, 2 years ago when I turned on the radio the day after halloween and I heard those glorious strains of Excelcis Deo that I was a little shocked. I thought it was just a one time song to help us get in the mood, to help us get out the door and do our part to help boost the economy. But when one song turned into 2, then 3, then all day, I was mystified, horrified, and secretly pleased. Last year, I wasn't sure if they would do it again or if it was just a once in a lifetime fluke, but come Nov. 1st, we were 'Rockin around the Christmas Tree' once more. I tried to pace myself, you know, only listen in the car, or while making dinner, but soon found I couldn't resist the merriment and sense of anticipation the music would bring. They didn't tolerate my obsession at work, so I made up lost time at home, decking our halls with hours of jolly, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.
So this year, I was mentally prepared. I was ready come Nov. 1st to embrace "Frosty the Snowman". Afterall, "It's the most wonderful time of the year" and once halloween is over, I'm ready to "Let it snow". Well, Nov. 1st was a sunday, so I wasn't too dissappointed that Sounds of the Sabbath was playing, although I was hoping they would throw in Away in the Manger every once in awhile. They didn't. But come monday morning, I just knew my voice would be heard "Up on the Housetop" singing with the "Angels we have heard on High". First thing monday after I 'don'd me now our maid apparel', I reached for the cleaning supplies, cranked up the volume and turned on fm100, expecting "Silver Bells" to see me through dirty sinks and toilets, dishes and dust. "Do you hear what I hear"? "Mr. Grinch" radio announcer is playing his usual monday morning Elton John will-get-you-to-work-on-time crap, while my heart is sinking. No explanation, no excuses, just a whole lotta 'nuttin of christmas'. How dare they! First they get us hooked. They lull us christmas musicholics into a safe environment where we don't have to sneak our Nat King Cole and Amy Grant from their hiding places, because they've made it available to us 24/7. They have forced us closet christmas listeners out into the open, and we're ok with it, because now we know we're not the only ones who like to spread "Joy to the World" before Thanksgiving. And then, they take it all away. Again we are shamed. We who have listened, have been outsted. They know who we are.
We are the ones who pull out the christmas fabric in July to start a new christmas countdown. We are the ones who have our christmas shopping done by December 1st. We are the ones who have a freezer full of christmas candy that we started making in October. We are the ones who go the craft store in September, and while everyone else is grumbling about the Christmas stuff out already, we are holding back a cheer and refrain from shouting 'Finally'! We are the ones who have a closet stuffed with christmas sweaters and proudly wear each one, no matter how old, ugly or dated they may be.
You can repress us Mr. DJ, but you can't keep us down! We will not let the lack of Christmas music diminish the spark of excitement in our hearts. "Oh Come all ye Faithful" listeners of holiday cheer, bring out your music, your Amy and Celine. No more need for "Silent Night"s, "Go tell it on the Mountain", "Christmas time is Here"!

P.S. Yes, I posted this while listening to www.live365.com, where they play christmas music nonstop. Take that cosy and fm100, hah!

All Hallows Eve

Halloween is almost here,
the ghosts and goblins gather near.
Preparing for that special night
when all the children get a fright.

The pumpkins cast their eery glow
and flicker and fade as the wind softly blows.
The vampires in their coffins arise
as children scurry with piercing cries.

The zombies walk the streets alone,
the living, to the dead unknown;
they seek revenge in the evenings chill
every hallows eve from the graveyards hill.

The witches are heard from miles away
their cackles invite all to come out and play.
Riding high on their brooms to get the best view
of the lone lost child to add to their brew.

The spirits of the dead awake,
the dust of years they raise and shake;
their souls are free to roam unseen,
they wander quietly serene.

The werewolves at the moon will howl,
among the children the monsters prowl.
Mothers oblivious to the dangers that lurk
see only costumes from others hard work.

They marvel how real, they seem so tragic,
then shrug it off to makeup magic.
They share the night with the creatures of old
unaware of the dangers their forefathers told.

TV, movies, books and games
made all scary things seem rather tame;
noises, strange lights and things that go 'BOO'
are all man made, they're not really true.

So the zombies, monsters, werewolves and ghosts
return defeated to their devilish host.
All hallows eve just isn't the same
for the creatures of night it's become rather lame.

(happy ending)

But the children still love it, it's candy they seek
and if by chance they meet a real freak,
a genuine monster whose teeth drips with drool,
no scream they'll make, they think it's cool.
(scary ending)

But may I suggest you take my advice,
these goulish creatures are not very nice.
They didn't dress up like 'Thriller' to dance,
you won't get too far, you won't stand a chance.

The creatures of night of whom you detest
will soon be your guide, they'll have you possessed.
And to their world they'll drag you down
in the muck and the mire until you drown.

Six feet under will be your new home,
till next hallows eve' when you come out to roam.

Happy Blog Birthday!

It was exactly a year ago today that I entered into the self-absorbing world of blog. I never thought I would have anything to say, and every week I pretty much feel the same way. Still waiting for the big WOW that will make everyone on the planet want to tune in and read my every thought, hanging on every word, laughing at every line. But after reading some of those blogs in which the world does tune in every day, I'm grateful my life is pretty boring and that the world doesn't know who I am because:
A) I haven't had a near-death experience
B) I haven't murdered my family
C) I haven't been on Oprah

And I'm OK with that. I'm happy with my simple don't-give-me-more-than-I-can-handle-even-if-it-will-give-me-something-interesting-to-blog-about life. My challenge will be to come up with another year's worth of material that will give my loyal 10 readers something worth reading about. And it's already started, I'm stumped. I got nothing. You might have had your suspicions a few blogs ago. It takes a pretty desperate blogger to write about one's oven woes and throw-up, I mean how desperate is that? So, I've come to the conclusion, that if I can't find anything exciting in my life to blog about, I'm going to start blogging about your lives. You know, the ones where I laugh and say, "That's so funny! You should blog about that...oh yeah, wait. You don't have a blog!" Consider me your ghost-blogger. And just so you know, names will be changed to protect the innocent, or the foolish, or the really embarrassed.
I think I'll start out with a story about my sister, we'll call her Windy (remember, not her real name). Windy had a church meeting she needed to get ready for. Normally, she would have taken off her pants and slipped on her skirt, however, on this day she was wearing her long-john G's to keep her warm, so she stripped off her underwear along with her pants. She put on skirt appropriate underwear, finished getting ready, and went to her meeting like a good little church-meeting-going mom should do. When she got home from her meeting, she realized if she hurried she would be able to run to Sam's Club before they closed (no, she wasn't breaking a commandment, it was a week-night meeting). So she quickly threw off the skirt, jumped back into her pants, and ran out the door. The long walk from the parking lot to the front door caused her to reflect on some strange sensations she was having in one of her pant legs. For some reason it felt a little thicker than the other, a little tighter perhaps. She did not have a toddler tugging at her leg, so that wasn't the cause. But she didn't have too much time to dwell on it before she was greeted at the door by a good-looking young man standing as sentinal and gaurd. After she smiled and flashed him (her card), she grabbed her cart and went on her way. A few steps later, she noticed the strange sensation in her pant leg was gone. Something else was missing too, she just couldn't quite place it, and in trying to understand what had just happened, and why she now felt a draft going up her leg, she turned her head back, looking for some tangible proof that she wasn't losing her mind. Well, she did find something. There, at the door, next to the good-looking door greeter, she noticed something white. Upon closer inspection, she realized the white blob on the floor that she, and everyone else now walking in saw, was her long underwear! She snatched them up and shoved them in her purse so quickly, that even the best shop-lifter would have been impressed. This time she didn't smile at the chuckling good-looking door greeter as she grabbed hold of her cart and made a bee-line for the freezer section, where she could stick her hot-flushed face in the cooler and melt the ice-cream with a single touch to her cheek. Of course it took awhile after the initial shock of "What? How did that get there?" to realize that when she took off her pants and underwear the first time, they must have stayed intact. When she put them on later that night, they must have shifted into one leg, and worked their way down the leg of her pant, until just the right moment. Not in the privacy of her garage, or in her car, or even in the parking lot...Oh no! It wasn't until she had an audience that her underwear made it's debut. She was just grateful the good-looking door greeter didn't try to get her for shoplifting, now that would have been embarrassing to explain!

And just in case your wondering if this story is true...it is. All except the part about the ' Young Good Looking Door Greeter'. I knew you wouldn't fall for that one. (This is Sam's Club we're talking about) He was old and probably half blind, therefore he didn't even see what landed in front of his feet. (at least that's what we tell Windy, anything to make her feel better)

Thanks for all my readers out there! By the way, anyone can leave a comment...anyone out there...anyone at all....hello?

Oiy joy...of motherhood.

It's 4 AM, my light goes on.
My son creeps in, I know somethings wrong.
He says those words all mothers dread,
"I just threw up all over my bed".

"Are you OK" I think to ask,
while deep inside I'm dreading the task.
He's better now, the pain is gone.
It's times like this I hate being Mom.

I plug my nose, try to hold it in,
pull off the sheets and force a grin.
At least he kept his barf confined
or I would have lost more than my mind.

It's wandering off to my happy place,
trying not to think of the task I face.
I tell myself I'm the cleaning crew
at a 5-star hotel, in the Carribbean too.

The slime I try to rinse down the sink
is a pina-colada from someones spilt drink.
I think I'll go snorkling at the end of my shift,
Oh who am I kidding, this sheet smells like...
well, you get the drift.

The sheets are washing, a clean set put on,
I tell Trey good-night as I let out a yawn.
My head hits the pillow, I try to sleep
but I'm now wide awake, counting sheep.

I'm just dozing off at 6 AM
when I hear running feet and then a 'BHAM'
He's at it again, my poor little guy,
I'm hoping he made it, I'd sure hate to cry.

I find him leaning over the john,
the contents of his stomach gone.
I'm afraid to ask, but need to know,
"did you make it on time, or did you blow?"

"I tried to keep my mouth shut tight,
the hallway was dark and I didn't get the light.
I ran head-first into the wall
which made me spwew some down the hall."

Again I'm scrubbing, this time the floor.
It's not too bad, I've done this before.
Then back to bed I try once more
while my husband, oblivious, softly snores.

You might be wondering why he sleeps
while I do all the work without a peep,
let's say I learned from my mother dear,
who learned long ago, about 40 years.

My sister was sick, you know what I mean,
so my Mom asked my Dad to help her clean.
He tried, bless his heart, to help with the mess,
but the smell, the chunks, he just couldn't suppress.

Next thing Mom knew she had double the work,
and cleaning up man puke is not a nice perk.
Never again did she ask for his aid,
so now you know why I'm a little afraid.

Let them smash the big spiders and open tight jars,
change the light bulbs and keep up the cars.
When your child turns green and their cookies display,
remember one thing,'KEEP YOUR MAN FAR AWAY'

Sisters.

I've struggled all week in writing this blog. I don't want to brag, and I certainly don't want to make those of you who don't have what I have feel jealous, left out, or cheated out of one of lifes greatest blessings. It's not that I had anything to do with it anyway, my mom and dad can take all the credit. I'm just a receiver of the gift that keeps on giving. I'm talking about the gift of sisters. I have 4 of them, so I feel especially blessed.Recently we all gathered together for our semi-annual "Sister Day". A day where we let the kids run free in Grandma's yard while we sisters forget our daily cares, reminese, remineace, ugh, remember the good old days, while making a craft for the upcoming holidays.

Growing up I didn't appreciate the fact that I always had to share a room, or that I was usually watching the younger kids while mom was sewing (clothes for me) or that my little sisters would sneak into my makeup when I wasn't home. Of course now, with years of wisdom behind me, I can look back and appreciate those experiences.

A couple of years ago, Kayla came to me with a homework assignment. She had to convince someone to see her point of view and needed that person to write a paragraph or two of why they agreed or disagreed with her. Her platform:
"Why I need a lock on my bedroom door"
Her argument was quite convincing and I found myself agreeing with everything she said. I knew how frustrated she would be when her sister would make herself at home in her room, borrow her clothes without asking. Helping herself to everything in her room, her flat iron, her mirror and makeup because she didn't want to go downstairs and get ready in her own room, leaving a trail of mess behind. I know when things went missing she could always blame her sister, she only has one so it wasn't too hard to guess who the culprit was.
Well, I jumped right in and agreed that having an older sister who felt entitled to anything she saw must be somewhat irritating, and that a lock might discourage any clepto tendancies, but as I started writing, I found myself reflecting back to my childhood experiences and the fond memories I have with my own sisters. I would make up dances with my sisters and perform them to my mom's old records of My Fair Lady and Singing in the Rain. I recalled the tea parties we would have, staying up late into the night playing slap-jack and laughing with my older sister until my parents would shout down the heat vent to go to sleep. Making spook alleys in the cold, dark food storage room, and staying up way too late with them on Christmas eve cuz we were all too excited to sleep.
Suddenly I was feeling sorry for my daughter, not because she had a sister who liked to hang out in her room, but because she only had one sister to hang out with in her room. My tune changed from "lock the door" to "unlock your heart". I found myself expressing to her how lucky she was that she had a sister who not only loved her, but one who loved to hang out with her. I tried to convince her that friends come and go, but your sister will always be there, and since she only has one, she'd better make the best of it. I reassured her that her sister will be the shoulder you cry on when some guy breaks your heart, and she'll be the first one you call when you meet Mr. Right. She'll be the one with the biggest smile in your wedding photos, and she'll be your childs favorite aunt. She'll be the one you run to when you've had your first fight with your husband, and she'll be the one to convince you that no, it wasn't a mistake, guys are just jerks sometimes. She'll be the one beside you while you push your little ones on the swing at the park, and on Halloween she'll be pushing her stroller along side yours up and down the neighborhood. She'll be the one you call when your husband takes the kids off your hands for a couple of hours so you can have some 'alone time', and she'll be the one you call crying to when your little one has gone off to college. She'll be your sounding board, your cheerleader, your therapist, your sanity. But most of all, she'll be your best friend.

I should know...I have four of them.

Oh, and by the way, the teacher gave me an 'A' on my essay.
(ok, now I'm bragging)

Peace and Quiet

It's been pretty quiet around our house for the past 2 1/2 weeks. Quiet's nice. Quiet's good. Chelsea has been in England for the past 2 weeks, lucky girl, visiting castles and palaces, Jane Austens home, Stonehenge and rocky beaches (we'll see if I can get her to blog about it) so she hasn't been hanging around home. Kayla, of course, is up at school and recently got a job, so we haven't seen her on the weekends as well. So, it's just been me, Tary and Trey, and although I love my boys, it's just not the same without my girls. For some reason, the guys don't want to hang out with me when I'm going to Roberts Crafts or Bath and BodyWorks. They didn't want to see the "Time Travelers Wife" or go to the fabric store to see their new Christmas selection. They dread hearing the words 'Gardner Village' and 'pumpkins' and 'pictures' in the same sentance. Maybe it's because the orange and brown outfits I pick out for them to wear matches the scenery. I don't know. But for whatever reason, I've been doing alot of things "alone" lately. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Sometimes a little alone time is good. I must admit it's kinda nice not to feel outside pressure when you've been staring at the same 4 bolts of fabric for 30 minutes, trying to decide which one is a must have. And scavaging through Kohl's clearance racks is not a task for the patient impaired person.
So, I have embraced my aloneness. It's not so bad. I can get in my car, alone, confident that the radio station which I chose in my car will not start screaming obsenities at me. And my grocery bill has been reduced since I'm no longer pressured into buying fruit snacks, cookies and pop tarts.
Although being alone isn't so bad, being lonely can be. And I've decided there are just certain things I will not do alone, for they seem to draw attention to how alone I really am. They are:

1- Going to the movies. Staying home with a box of kleenex and watching a good cryer alone is good. Going to the movies and crying alone, bad.

2- Eating out alone. Sitting at the kitchen table alone, with a good book and a plate of hot pasta and a big ol' brownie, eating and reading without interruption, is good. Sitting in a restaurant, all alone, pretending to be waiting for someone, looking all pathetic. Bad.

3- Going to a wedding reception alone...awkward. Standing in line, not knowing anyone around you, trying not to care that they are talking and laughing all around you while you stand there looking like a doofus cuz you can't laugh with them or they'll know you were eavesdropping. Then really wanting to stay and have a piece of cheesecake, but again, not wanting to sit and eat alone (see point no. 2)

I received an e-mail awhile back from my cousin which goes against my rule no. 1, but more power to her! I saved it cuz it was so funny...here goes:

I've got something funny to tell you but first I have to confess that I am a closet "Trekkie". I've always loved the Star Trek shows on TV and the movies they've made over the years.

I've been wanting to go see the new Star Trek movie that's been out for a few weeks now but Ross never seemed interested when I asked him to go with me. Finally, yesterday he told me to see if Marj would like to go because he wasn't interested. Well, I decided to go by myself. How hard could that be, afterall, it's something I see people do all the time but have never had the nerve to do. So, today I got online and looked up the times for the Payson theatre and found that the earliest for the Star Trek movie was 11:45 am. Great! I could go see a movie and be on with my day pretty early. At 11:35 I started out and realized that I'll be a few minutes late so I'm almost panicky thinking that there might not be a seat for me but I tell myself, of course there will be a seat, you only want ONE! But what if it's on the front row! OK, just breathe through your nose and try not to get a speeding ticket.

When I arrive I see there aren't many cars in the parking lot so I feel confident that-first, I'll get in easily; and second, I'll not have to sit on the front row.

I purchase my ticket and a soda and head for the usher to hand over my ticket. She directs me to theatre 4, which is close by and I can hear the movie previews playing as I walk in. I not only have a seat but I can have ANY seat in the house because I'M THE ONLY ONE IN THE WHOLE FREAKIN THEATRE!!!

What a blast! I was the only one laughing, crying, SCREAMING...and I could drink my diet coke and eat my contraband candy (the stuff hiding in my purse) without a care in the world AND I could get up and try different seats for a new perspective. I could stand up and yell out loud with my mouth full, AND leave my cell phone on, just because I could!

One thing I hadn't taken into consideration was that my bladder would be getting pretty full before the movie let out and, even though I had to pee REALLY BAD, I couldn't leave and go to the restroom because there would be NO ONE to ask, "what did I miss while I was gone"? So I suffered through.

I now have one more thing added to my bucket list and I do believe that I would do it again-most definitely!

Thanks for the laugh Charmaine! You are much more confident in your aloneness than I am. And thank goodness I won't have to suffer my sad state of loneliness much longer...my girls are both coming home this weekend! Pull out the orange...Gardner Village here we come!

Peace and Quiet and so over-rated.

A silver lining.

It's been awhile since I last blogged. If it's any excuse, I've been in mourning. Why is it that we always take those things we love for granted, assuming they'll always be there for us. For the past 21 years, she's been at my side, helping to make every birthday and holiday extra special. And has been there for me on the dull drab days in-between, always giving her warmth to the heart of our home, never asking for anything in return.

She started getting sick last November and has been slowly deteriorating. Finally, just a few short weeks ago, I found her just sitting in the kitchen, lifeless and cold; dead cold. I couldn't revive her. I tried everything, but all the tricks I could do before to get her to warm up to me just wasn't working. I knew her time had come. My oven had gone to that Great Appliance Compliance in the Sky. But I wasn't ready to give her up. I called the GE repairman, their motto is, afterall 'We bring good things to life', she was good, and I needed her desperately back in my life. Fall had just arrived and I needed her to celebrate with me. I needed her for my peach and apple cobblers, my traditional halloween mummy calzone and pumpkin cookies. Not to mention all the upcoming baking associated with Thanksgiving and Christmas!

I made a date with the repairman, my next day off work, which also happened to be the day I had planned to make chocolates with my friend and neighbor Carla. I don't know why the thought of having Carla see my dirty kitchen didn't bother me, but when I realized a complete stranger that I would never see again was coming to inspect my oven, it sent me in full spit and shine mode! Carla and I have raised our kids together, cried together, cooked and sewed together. She knows the intents of my heart, and I hers, so we know not to judge each other based on the layers of grease and grime that find it's way into the corners of the cupboards. But to have a complete stranger see my lack of kitchen cleanliness made the inner domestic goddess in me come alive.

I spent the night before preparing for the grand resurrection. First, I had to prepare the deceased. This included a thorough scrub job, inside the oven, under the burners, and shiny new foils for the drip pans were the final touch. She was beautiful! The rest of the kitchen paled in comparison. I didn't want the man kneeling down on my sticky floors, so out came the mop. One thing led to another, and soon I found the floorboards wiped down, sink scoured, bar and table cleared of clutter, dishes done, rugs vacuumed, and appliances sparkling...

All that work for 10 minutes and $69 later, and all he could do was to pay his respects to the deceased. Apparently ovens have a short lifespan. Mine was old when we moved in so she had exceeded the experts life expectancy. Her body parts couldn't be replaced. No transplant could save her, they've discontinued her kind. (Memorial services to be announced later)

As with most tragedies, one must look for the good amidst the bad. So with a sorrowful heart, I bid farewell to my friend, my baker of buns, my giver of goodies, my tempter of treats and caller of casseroles. You've served me well. I thank you.

Oh well...can't be sad for too long...I'm getting a new oven!
Yahoo!
And my kitchen is really clean too!