Silent Night

I hope Mary's ok with the donkey holding the baby

(Paisley got to be baby Jesus)



I'm not sure she liked her present, but she loved the wrapping paper.

Ah, the day after Christmas. Otherwise known as "The Big Let Down". I'm just grateful I had a day to do nothing but sit and recoup at church. I've never been more grateful for 'a day of rest'. I'm already dreading next year when I have to go to work the day after Christmas.




I've decided Christmas is much like vacation. You plan and prepare and look forward to it for so long, that when it finally comes, it may or may not live up to your expectations, and you always seem to need another vacation to rest up from it.





So many of our traditions are centered around food. As a child, I looked forward to Christmas eve as much or more than Christmas day! Every year, my mom would bring down her glass serving sets. They were cute little glass trays and cups that they used to use in the good ol'days for wedding receptions, just the right size for a little kid. We would have Sprite (soda-pop was a rare treat growing up) and make our own mini-pizza's, customizing it to our likes. Olives were a must, crackers and chips, vegi's and dip, and the traditional yule log.



Spouses and 20 grandkids later, we've had to replace the pizza's with soup to make it more manageable. But our traditional junk night is a staple on Christmas eve.



And now, I have our own Christmas food traditions. Every Christmas we have a traditional turkey dinner with mashed and sweet potatoes, rolls, beans, and my once a year red-hot jello salad, and of course, yule log.


Despite all the hard work, it was a great day. I even got to sleep in til 8 am. Of course I didn't fall asleep until after 1 am (yeah, i'll admit, i had a hard time falling asleep). The kids were happy with their presents, the husband was happy with his, and when they're happy, I'm happy. And when Mom's happy, everybody's happy. It was a happy day.


Today was a good day too. I've tried hard not to let the Christmas blues take over, and it's been nice to be able to finally relax. I didn't even make a big sunday dinner, thanks to leftovers. Then we all sat down together as a family and watched one of the movies we got for christmas. Who would have thought toys could make me cry? Ah, it was a good cleanser cry. I feel refreshed.

Christmas day is over,

The tree is bare once more.

the presents have all been opened,

the gifts neatly stacked on the floor.

Christmas carols are softly fading,

Christmas greetings are no longer heard.

The feelings of anticipation,

no longer within us are stirred.

The joy of the season starts fading,

the day the tree comes down;

we box up the memories and trinkets,

they'll keep till next year comes around.

But the meaning of Christmas shouldn't be stored with the lights

and only come out once a year;

No, the meaning of Christmas should live in our hearts,

the feelings of love always near.

And so my gift to the Christ child

this year I'll give to him,

to keep his spirit within me;

Good tidings for men will not dim.

I'll keep the Spirit of Christmas

every day of this new coming year;

kind acts, good thoughts and deeds

will keep me in Merry Christmas cheer.

Merry Christmas everyone! I hope it was a good one...I hope we can all keep Christmas, not just 12 days of the month, but 12 months of the year!

Christmas memories

I think one of the reasons I love Christmas so much, is because of the fond memories I have of christmas as a child.

Part of those memories come from watching the old silent home movies., before the vcr and videotapes were invented. My favorite family home evenings were the times Dad would drag out the old film projector and big reels of 8 mm film. Family vacations, camping, running through the sprinklers, and every childs birthday and the blowing of the candles were forever captured in our memories thanks to those old movies. But the ones I looked forward to watching the most, were when my brother and sisters and I were lined up in front of the roaring fireplace, in our new pajamas that Mom made us every Christmas eve.

We were allowed to open one present on Christmas eve, of course it was always preselected by our Mom, and it was always a new pair of pajamas. As I recall, in the movies I was usually twirling, my sister twisting/dancing, and my brother would be stomping on some invisible bug. The trees would change from year to year. One year it might be flocked in white with big red crepe paper flowers adorning it, or green with tinsel and popcorn strung about. Our pajama's would also change as the years went by; flannel pj's with new minnie mouse slippers, or tricot nightgowns that were slick and flowing, perfect for sliding down the dining table leaves that doubled as a homemade slippery slide.

Whatever the wardrobe or tree looked like, our faces always held the same look of anticipation for who was to come, in what would always appear to be the longest night of the year!

I'm surprised Santa even made it to our house, with all those wide eyed children who found sleep impossible and was ready to catch him in the act with every bump and clatter they heard. When my sister and brother and I moved to the basement rooms, with our little siblings asleep upstairs, we would stay up late, with our radio turned down low, listening to the Santa sightings and estimating how long it would be before he found his way to our neighborhood. When we could stand it no more, we would sneek upstairs to see if the big guy had made his appearance. I don't know how he did it, but every time he came and left before we caught a glipse of him. And as was often the case, the temptation to sneek a peek at what he left was too great. With our stockings overflowing and presents piled so far and wide around the tree, it was almost overwhelming and made sleep near impossible. And most often than not, it was Mom and Dad who was shaking us awake in the morning, because eventually we drifted off to sleep and couldn't seem to wake up on our own, even knowing what awaited us upstairs.

Traditions are an important part of Christmas, and one of the traditions I've kept alive with my own children, is to let them open one present on Christmas eve, and if you guessed it was a new pair of pj's, you would be right.

The other tradition, you know, the one about having a hard time sleeping at night...oh don't you worry. Pathetically I'm still keeping that tradition alive as well.

Tis the season to be...sick. falalala.

My husband thinks I'm crazy that I start watching my favorite Christmas movies in October/November. I admit, I always thought I was a little over anxious for the season to begin, so thought perhaps that's why I pull out my DVD collection a bit premature. But this year, while having an AHA moment, I realized my subliminal mind knew all along what it was doing when it craved to see Tim Allen in his silky red pj's, which by the way, I own a pair just like it, only mine don't have the initials SC embroirdered on them, but their still just as festive!

Anyway, my AHA came as I realized I had only watched one christmas movie thus far in the season, the new Jim Carrey's "A Christmas Carol". As I was trying to figure out how I was going to fit in all 10 of my favorite christmas shows in only 18 short days, that's when I realized...this is why I start watching so early...so I can get them all in. heck, even just 2-3 would be great at this point.

This month is always so busy, and every year I vow to start preparing earlier so I can sit back, relax, and enjoy the month of December without feeling all the rush and busi-ness that comes with it. I thought I was doing pretty good too. We had our annual Sister Candy Day on December 1st, and my visiting teaching all done by the 3rd. But every night brings something new. Birthday dinners for Chelsea and my mother in law, family night, RS dinner, Trey's choir concert, Tary's work party, my work party, ward christmas party, family christmas party...and I still need to bake goodies for the neighbors!

Is it any wonder that my body has said, ENOUGH! Unfortunately it has rebelled. I'm home sick today. Forced to slow down by a cold. And yet oddly enough, I still haven't squeezed in a good movie. I slept in till 10, (that felt wonderful) wrapped all the presents while the kid is in school, read a short little christmas book, and now I'm blogging. In an hour I'll be at the church, helping set up for the Relief Society Christmas dinner, but believe me...as soon as it's over, I'll be in my silky red pajama's with my Nyquil and blankie, and cuddled up with Santa Clause.

...and to all a good night!

Too busy to give thanks...NOT!

Hey, it's stuffing...no one is going to notice a little carpet fuzz, right?

I feel like such a slacker! Thanksgiving has come and gone. It seems like only yesterday that it was Halloween, and tomorrow will be Christmas! How does this happen? And why do I seem so surprised that the days fly by this time of year?


I apologize for not publicly expressing my gratitude to family and friends, and if you're reading this, you must be one of them. Thank you for being a part of my life.


Chelsea and I were driving across town last month, and we drove through my old neighborhood in Murray where Tary and I lived for 2 years when we were first married. We really liked our neighborhood, our ward, and the friends we made there. When we started looking for a home of our own, we wanted to stay close by. We even made an offer on a home there, but it didn't work out. We ended up in a town farther than expected, but have loved the home and the neighborhood where we have lived for the past 23 years.


I was wondering out loud to my daughter, how different our lives might be if we had stayed in Murray. Would I be the same person I am today? Would she?


Would I be a chocolatier (that's an exaggeration on my part) if I didn't live across the street from Carla, who happens to make the best chocolates in the world and passed on her trade secrets to me?


Would I be a quilter if I hadn't been a visiting teacher to Sue, who inspired me with her beautiful wall quilts and talent for sewing crafts?


Would I had been able to be a stay at home working mom if I didn't know the sweet ladies in my ward, Devina, and Tammy and Alison, who all convinced me I should get a job at JetBlue?


Would I be where I am today, at the best place to work with the best job in the world? Or would I have stayed at Hunter Douglas because it was just down the street, and in my comfort zone.


Would Chelsea have ever met and married Joe if they didn't grow up in the same ward, go to the same school, and share the same friends? Would she even be married yet? Would I still have my beautiful Paisley who has Joe's eyes?


So many 'what if's'...it reminds me of my favorite Christmas movie, "It's a Wonderful Life". George Bailey gets to see what life would have been like if he wasn't in it. He got to see just how much influence for good he had on the people in his community.


I'd like to think that my community, my ward, my neighbors and friends, have made me who I am today because of their influence in my life, and the lives of my children.


I don't believe in coinsidences. I think someone above knew where I needed to be, to be with the people I needed to be with, to help me get to where I needed to be.


And for that, I am Grateful. And just in case He reads my blog in his spare time, I Thank You.


And so my dear friends, I Thank You for the influence you have had in my life. For the talents you have shared, the laughter, the tears, and most of all, your examples.



For my dear family...your influence is a constant in my life, no matter where I live. You have shaped and molded me more than you know. It's because of all of you that I want to be a better person.


For my three sweet kids...I love you for the children you were, for the people you grew up to be, and for the Mother you created in me.


For my dear husband, who saw enough potential in a silly 16 year old girl to make him want to hang around and wait for me to grow up, and who is still patiently waiting for that day to come....I love you and thank you for choosing me. Thank you for the life we have built together, for the future we are still building...


...and for agreeing to move into our home just because it had a really big kitchen!



I love you all! Happy Belated Thanksgiving!

Do you hear what I hear?

I've always thought something must be wrong with me.

Why am I so different? Why can't I be like everyone else? Why can't I just fit in? Sometimes the shame and ridicule is too much to bear.

Being a christmas musicholic hasn't always been an easy burden to bear. People give me weird looks, and call me crazy, and wonder how I can stand it and not get burned out or sick of it. People are afraid to get too close to me, afraid that good-cheer will rub off on them like some contagious rash. I've always been a closet christmas musicholic, until fm100 and kosy ousted me. It's been healthy to know I'm not alone. There are others out there like me.

This year, I wasn't going to get my hopes up. Last year, the day after Halloween was such a let down because the holly jolly tunes weren't playing. Eventually the radio stations succombed, due to pressure from my fellow musicholics, and the season got back on track. This year, I wasn't sure if they would wait till they got the same response, or if they would start on their own accord. Either way, I told myself, I have enough of my own music to tie me over till they came to their senses. So I wasn't terribly disappointed when November 1st came along, but the christmas music didn't come along with it.

Really, I was ok. The weather was still warm, the skies sunny, it was hard to start thinking about a winter wonderland in the middle of an indian summer. (Besides, I had recently bought Kenny G's collection of christmas favorites and was already getting my money's worth out of it.) But imagine my delight, when on November 4th (I know, it's weird that I remember the exact date and time) I turned on my radio to keep me company while I made dinner, and lo and behold, it was beginning to sound a lot like Christmas!

The Christmas musicholics have scored another victory...and this time we have a celebrity on our side!

I don't know if it was coincidence, but just 2 days later, Jerry Johnston, one of my favorite columinists in the Deseret News, wrote an article entitled "It's time for annual clash of the carols". Catchy huh. Anyway, in his article he asks the all important question: How long should we wait before we start playing those troubling Christmas carols?

He mentions the "battle between the "hold off" crowd, those who perceive early carols as a ploy by merchants to sell Christmas. They dislike the materialism and fear the reason for the season has to do more with goods than goodwill.

Then there are the "play the carols early" bunch who are choosing the better angels of human nature. For them, the carols call to mind family, friends, good times and good feelings. They are anxious to rekindle the holy light within themselves."

He says, "the more tidings of comfort and joy we can bring to the surface the better. We've been through a long year. The information age has us worrying about things in distant lands we wouldn't have even known about 30 years ago. We're told to think 'globally'. But we're not globes, we're humans. We need to think 'humanly'. The more we focus on people around us, the more real we feel. And no songs help us see that human side of each other more than the Christmas carols. So I say bring 'em on. The more the merrier. For I know, in my case, the sooner I can hear a sweet version of "With Wondering Awe", the sooner I will find more perspective, sanity and faith in our frail existence."

Amen. I couldn't have said it better myself, (which is why he gets paid for his thoughts and I don't).

Christmas music makes me smile. It cheers my heart, lifts my down trodden spirit, and gives me hope when life is depressing and cold. No one should put a time restraint on happiness, and Christmas music just makes me happy; and I'm sure we could all use a little more happiness in our lives, whatever the season.

Now if you excuse me, I'm going to crank up the radio and fix myself a little hot chocolate. Oh yeah, chocolate makes me happy too!

Let it Fall, let it fall...let it fall!

Oh the weather outside's delightful

though the rain was somewhat spiteful;

but the goblins still had a ball,

so let it fall, let it fall, let it fall.

Though the leaves outside are changing,

and we brought some candy for exchanging;

we're not quite ready to deck the halls,

so let it fall, let it fall, let it fall.

Yeah, I know. I've been an absentee blogger. More computer problems which I won't bore you with. But I'm back with a vengance! I have so much to blog about, I don't know where to start. So, to keep it short and sweet, here's my top ten favorite things that happened in October:

10-Paisley learned how to smile!

9-Trey got braces!



8-First snowfall of the season...which promptly melted before I could get a picture of it.


7-Going to Midway with Chelsea and Paisley to see the fall colors and look at the scarecrow display at the Homestead. (Although I really went for the fudge, and the fudge shop was closed)







6-Getting to know Matt at our Halloween Dinner.



(picture not taken at the dinner, but the only one I had of Matt, thanks to facebook)

5-Sister Craft Day! Look at those big Boo's we have!




4-Finally, a new computer! (let's hope it finally works)

3-Halloween with the family!

My little baby bumble-bee!

The Joker



The Mad Hatter!

2-Candy! Candy! Candy! (not really, but I ran out of ideas)

And the no. 1 best thing about this October is....

Despite all of it, I still lost 2 pounds!

Let it fall, let it fall...let it fall!

One hot mummy

Wow, it's snowing outside. Fall is passing me by, and I haven't even blogged about it yet! So much has happened, Trey got braces, Paisley found her smile, Kayla got a boyfriend...and all the while I'm bogged down in computer purgatory (that's a nice word for the 'H' word).

Ladies, thought you would want to know, nagging still works. Last night my sweet husband finally consented, and we went out and bought a NEW computer! It's so sweet. Now I'm in blog heaven.

So much to talk about, where do I start? In honor of my new computer, I'm going to do something I've never attempted before. I'm going to do a...dah dah dah...tutorial.

We have a tradition in our family, it's fairly recent. In 2005 my Holiday edition of Taste of Home had a recipe for Mummy Calzones. Ever since, we've had a special Halloween dinner, full of body parts and creepy food. I thought I would pass along the recipe so you can make mummies of your own.

You will need:

2 loaves frozen bread dough, thawed

1 1/2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese

1/2 cup pizza sauce

pepperoni slices

1 egg, beaten

olives

Roll out each piece of dough into a rounded triangle shape about 14 inches long and 11 inches wide at the base of the triangle. Place each on a parchment lined baking sheet with the tip of the triangle toward you. Lightly score a 4" wide rectangle in the center of the triangle 2" in from the top and bottom. On each long side, cut 1" wide strips at an angle up to the score line, leaving a trianglein the top center of the wide end for the head.

(sorry, this picture is misplaced. Pretend it's at the bottom)

Inside the scored rectangle in the center, layer pizza sauce, cheese, pepperoni and olives. Shape the top center triangle into a head. Starting at the head, fold alternating strips of dough at an angle across filling, stopping at the last strip on each side. Fold the bottom dough tip up over the filling, then fold the remaining two strips over the top; press down firmly.

Brush dough with egg. Cover and let rise for 15 minutes. For eyes, press a sliced, cut in half, olive pieces into head. Bake at 350 degrees for 25-28 minutes. Let stand for 5 minutes before slicing. Makes 8-10 servings. See pictures above.

Enjoy!

(More blogs to come...stay tuned!)

Hutch

I am not one of those people who love to wake up at the crack of dawn on a saturday morning and drive all over the valley hitting every garage sale at every corner in hopes I'll score big with some $2 antique hiding behind a layer of dust, that when polished is worth $2000. Nope, not me. I have enough problems trying to figure out where to store my own stuff without adding other peoples junk into the mix. Don't get me wrong, I love a good bargain. I didn't earn the title "Clearance Queen" for no reason, let's just say I prefer to do my bargain hunting in a air-conditioned store and buy things that don't have dried boogies and cobwebs clinging on to them. But when my neighbor across the street announced she was sorting out her closets in hopes to make a few bucks, I was elated!

My neighbor doesn't do junk...she does Macy's, and Village Quilt shop, and Tai-Pan. In other words, she has good taste. (and no boogies)

I must admit, I held off till almost noon. I had just bought a new quilt for my bed, new clearance clothes for my closet, and Tai-Pan and I are on a first name basis I go there so much. So I didn't think there would be anything I really needed. Yes, I know there's a difference between wants and needs, so when my husband told me I needed to go see what Mary had, I didn't hesitate to take him up on it. ( I later learned those were Mary's words, not my husbands)

Oh, books. I love books. She just happened to have one of my all time favorites of Dean Koontz, Life Expectancy. I highly recommend it to anyone, and if you'd like to borrow a copy, one just happened to come in to my possession lately.

Pillows...I love pillows. A cute little christmas pillow will look so good on my bench at Christmastime. Shoes. How convenient that she is just my size, a pair of red, pair of white, pair of blue (looks just like the red one), how patriotic of me, yes I am. Just doing my part america.

But when Mary said she had just the 'thing' for me, I was slightly disappointed to see her standing beside an old 1950 something secretary (not the person type, a desk type). Eh, not interested, but not wanting to hurt her feelings, I gave it a looksy. Solid wood...maple...(I like to eat maple, not look at it)...not really my style...kinda old fashioned...kinda antiquish...antiques can be cool...it is real wood....and then it hit me! What would Vanessa do? She would refinish it, paint it, scuff it, antique it, restore it! SOLD! 35 bucks...what a steal!

Mary's son who was selling his stuff and just happens to be a woodworker, got all excited when I said I wanted to refinish it. He started telling me how to sand it, use some type of goop to remove the varnish before I re-stained it.

"Do I have to do all that if I'm going to paint it?"

"Paint it? Why would you paint it? Don't you know that's real maple? You don't want to paint over maple!"

"Uh, yes I do"

I think I just got eye rolled at, and I'm pretty sure he would have refused the sale and refunded my money if he had his way. He was a little disgusted with my plans. But I could see it in my minds eye. Black...no, too dark. It would stick out like a sore thumb. Barn Red? No, that's a fad color. I don't want to have to repaint it in a few more years. Off-white, sanded edges, antiqued finish. Yes! I can't wait to get started...and started I did. I sanded that very day. The next weekend I painted, that thursday I stained. Two weeks, a lot of work and a little love, I now have a beautiful secretary sitting in my kitchen.

Well, that doesn't sound right...

Maybe I'll call it "Hutch". Sounds manly. It will be nice having a 'hutch' hanging around the kitchen.

The long and winding road

Into every life...a little road construction will follow.

I'm beginning to think there's a conspiracy to keep me from where I need to go. Every street I turn down it's either blocked, closed, detoured, or overly crowded because it's the only street left for people to travel.

Every morning I leave at 7:10 am just to make sure Trey isn't late for school by 7:30. After we wind around 3 different sub-divisions, a quarter tank of gas and 10 minutes later, I finally drop him off where he walks the last little bit because again, I can't get across the street to actually drop him off at the school.

My work route wasn't immune either. I take the back road to avoid the rush hour backed up 90th south street. One not so fine day, the little men in orange closed my secretive escape route home. Ugh! It took me 30 minutes to travel the 6 miles to my home! This went on for some time, as most road closures do. Then one miraculous day, the road blocks were gone! I could take the road less traveled once more. Not only was my little back road open, but it was beautiful! Black, smooth road topped with brightly yellow lines showing me the way. Wide pavement with charming street lamps adorning the curbs. My drive home was actually a pleasant experience, and it made me reflect on how our lives are much like road construction.

Sometimes we have pot-holes in our lives, created by sin. Little spots that mostly go unnoticed, caused by thoughtless actions, unkind words, mischievious deeds. Other times, we have big potholes, caused by greater sin; sin that if left unrepentant, grows bigger and wider, and harder to repair. Most often, the holes start out innocently enough, but because we don't take care of them right away, they grow bigger as we journey down the same path, over and over again, making the same mistakes, until we realize too late that unless we swerve around the hole, we could fall in and get stuck. Stuck in the rut that we've made for ourselves; our road broken and damaged from unwise choices that we've neglected to fix.

Until one day, we start down the path, and realize it's not a road we want to take anymore. We don't like where it leads; the bumpy road is too painful and a sore reminder of what it used to be.

So we call on the one person who can help repair our road.

The process won't always be easy; there will be detours along the way, leading us down safe roads of those who can also help us. Our road might be closed for awhile during repair, causing us sorrow for missed opportunities. But with His help, we slowly begin to fill in the gaps and holes. With each prayer we offer, each tear we shed, each scripture we read, each sacrifice we make, the holes fill up with hope, with faith, with love and gratitude. The process may seem slow, the results at times unseen. But one fine day, you'll arrive at your path, and replacing the bumps and holes and gaps, the ugly faded and scarred surface, lies before you a beautiful, smooth road. All blemishes gone. All reminders of the rough road eraced. What lies before you now, are the clear yellow and white lines, keeping you in the straight and narrow way, guiding you to your eternal home.

And if we're smart, we'll upkeep our road...filling the potholes as we go along, so we'll never have need of major road repair again.

Now if you'll excuse me, my shovel and pail are waiting.

Jerky anyone?

Last week my son became a man.

Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating a little. But he did do something manly. He shot his first animal; That sounds mean. He got his first kill; that doesn't sound any better. He brought home an Antelope; not for a pet, for a wallhanging.

He was so excited. Tary shot one too. Fortunately they spent all their money on tags and gas and a hotel that they can't afford to get them stuffed, so all we have to show for their big adventure is a couple of skulls with horns, and lots of antelope meat.

Not sure what I'll be doing with a freezer full of antelope. I'm hoping Tary is planning on making lots of jerky with it. My kids gobble down his elk and deer jerky, and although I'm not a fan of hard crunchy meat, it does give the house a mouth-watering smell.

Speaking of jerky smells, I have a friend who is a Dula. That's not her name, it's what she does. A dula is someone who takes care of pregnant women pre-labor, mid-labor, and post-labor. She helps women through natural child-birth and is there to help them with whatever they need her to do. A while ago, she had a patient who after she gave birth to her fifth child, came home to a family of sick kids. They all had the flu, and the Mom needed rest, so she hired Kristi to come and basically take care of everyone else, so she could take care of her own needs.

Kristi spent the morning cleaning up after 4 sick kids. Washing and changing sheets and mopping floors and all that fun stuff that accompanies the flu. By mid-afternoon, she was tired and hungry. She had planned to go home for lunch, since she lived rather close, but the demands were too great and she didn't see any way to escape, even for a quick bite.

All morning, a mouth watering aroma had been coming from the kitchen. A food dehydrator had trays of tasty look meat that Kristi just couldn't resist. She thought a little piece or two would be able to hold her till she could get away, and she didn't think anyone would begrudge her a bite since she had been working so hard all day long, and certainly the children were in no shape to be eating jerky. So Kristi slowly opened the lid, found the perfect piece, and took a bite. Hmm, tasty; a little gritty though. Not quite sure what type of meat it is, doesn't taste like beef, don't think it's venison or buffalo. As she chewed on another piece and pondered over the mystery meat, the Mom walked into the kitchen, catching her red-handed.

"This is interesting jerky" Kristi said, "what type of meat is this?"

"It's not meat... it's my placenta."

(Sphew)

Needless to say, Kristi mopped up more than just for the kids that day.

Jerky anyone?

Not so fare at the Fair

Last monday for family night, we went to the fair. So did about a gazillion other families. Family night at the fair means kids are free, which means the normal white trash, body piercing, face tattooing, hair spiking, pants falling crowd stayed away. Every night should be family night at the fair. The smell of smoke and alcohol was replaced by cotton candy and candy apples, and the sea lion show was standing room only. It was refreshing.

I made sure I got my exercise in before we went, visions of deep fried corn dogs and funnel cakes spurred me on, burning the calories I was consuming just thinking about all that delicious fair food. On the way, the radio announced the "All you can eat ice-cream" booth at the fair, just $3 for adults, $2 for children...oh heavens, I should have ran another mile.

Once inside the gates, we made our leisurely stroll through the animal barns, the 4-H exhibits, the Division of Wildlife (Tary's favorite) the quilt exhibits (my favorite) and the visual arts exhibit. The smell of roasting chicken over an open flame caught our attention, so we ditched the dogs for a bird instead, with rice and salad to boot. It was yummy, but much too healthy for the fair food conesieur. The funnel cakes looked delicious, but I resisted, knowing that my tummy and my wallet would be better served with the ice-cream, it only we could find it!

The fair is famous for it's fried foods. Normally, I try to obstain from drowning my food in a hot tub of grease, but once in awhile, it sure tastes good. This year we found everything from deep-fried snickers, to deep-fried pickles. That didn't even sound good, but I thought for sure Tary would go for the deep-fried bacon, drizzled in chocolate. I was actually looking forward to taking a bite out of it, not that I would spend $4.50 on one for myself, but I was kinda hoping he would. Bummer, no takers. I should have got the funnel cake while I had the chance. Ugh, now I'm getting desperate, where's the ice-cream?

We decided against paying $10 for a few tickets that would get us on 1 ride, and instead Tary and Trey went on a virtual reality ride. It was worth the $5 just to watch the goofy grins on their faces as they lurched and rocked and tilted side to side as they were strapped in, with virtual googles and headsets on. Trey was on a western rollercoaster, Tary did a airplane combat fight. And I sat on the sidelines, wishing I had brought my camera.

By now it's getting dark, it's a school night, time to start thinking about heading home. But we can't leave yet, we haven't found the...hey, lookie over there! It's the ice-cream tent...it's 9:05, they just barely closed, and they just scooped up the last bowl of ice-cream. It's all gone. Bummer. I should have got the fried funnel cake when i had the chance.

What a waste of a good work-out!

My Babies

My baby started Jr. High yesterday. Yeah, it's killing me. I was planning on the millenium to be here by now, so he could avoid the whole jr. high thing. I should have planned a little better and put him in a self defense class instead.

Chelsea and I pulled out Trey's baby book today; (she wanted to see if Paisley resembled her favorite uncle), and the memories came flooding back. There was Chelsea, 10 years old, holding her little brother. Now she holds her own little one. I've said it again, but it's worth repeating:

They grow up way too fast!

But if that's not consolation enough for the 3 am infomercial watching, sleep deprived mom of a newborn, consider this:

School has started. That means, before you know it, it will be time to start thinking about Halloween costumes, and carving pumpkins, and stocking up on candy. And we all know what happens the day after Halloween...Christmas music! But let's not forget Thanksgiving. We'll be so busy scouring over our recipe books, trying to find a new pie for the dessert table, that it will be here before we know it. And we all know what happens the day after Thanksgiving...setting up Christmas! The trees, the lights, the garland...oh think what fun Christmas will be this year with a new little one in our nativity manger! January brings birthdays and anniversary's to look forward too, and then spring will be right around the corner! Easter bunnies, walks in the park, blooming flowers and trees. Summer will follow on it's heels. Wading pools to keep cool, popsicles and fireworks...and then before you know it, she'll be a year old and sleepless nights will be a distant memory.



Whew! See how fast that went.

(Don't you just love the way I snucked (?) sneeked (?) the thought of halloween and christmas into my post just so I could use this awesome picture I took at Tai-Pan, cuz they have all their halloween decorations up and it's getting me trunky and treaty)

When I was a young girl in primary, we had a daddy-daughter date. I think we had dinner (I remember the ice-cream sundaes) and a program. I remember my best friends Lisa and Laurel sat on their dad's knee as he sang this song to them:

Where are you goin' my little one, little one?

Where are you goin' my baby my own?

Turn around and you're two

Turn around and you're four

Turn around and you're a young girl

Going out the door

Chorus: Turn around, Turn around, Turn around and you're a young girl

Going out of the door

Where are you goin' my little one, little one?

Little dirndles and petticoats, where have you gone?

Turn around and you're tiny

Turn around and you're grown

Turn around and you're a young wife

With babes of your own

Chorus: Turn around, Turn around, Turn around and you're a young wife
with babes of your own.

Where are you goin' my little one, little one?

Where are you goin' my baby my own?

By the end of the song, all of the Dad's were in tears. Back then, I didn't understand. I just knew my Dad cried alot. I figured it was a Dad thing.

Now I understand. And it's not just a Dad thing, it's a parent thing. (sniff sniff)

My babies are not babies anymore. Their grown, going off to jr high, and college, and having babies of their own.

Turn around Trey, turn around...come sit on my lap one more time. Come sing the Barney song one last time..."I love you, you love me..." come give me sticky kisses and wrap your dirty hands around my neck...let me read you a story one more time, "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living, my baby you'll be"...let me wipe away the tears one more time while you ask me what's wrong.

Nothing's wrong baby, it's just the way life is.

Where are you goin' my baby, my own.

Cake baking, picture taking, vanessa stalking weekend

I had the best weekend.

My uncle Jack is turning 90 years old this week, so his family had a nice little party for him at the town park. In case your wondering what one does at a birthday party for a 90 year old, one eats alot, visits alot, and takes pictures alot. Sorry, no clowns or magicians, but there was a 99 year old man there as well, which I thought was pretty cool.

So, we baked alot of cakes this weekend, Faun and I. We also took alot of pictures. Well, truth be told, her daughter Lauren took alot of pictures, Faun and I were on the opposite end of the lens this time, and we had no clue what we were doing. We have a whole new respect for all the poor saps that we boss around when we say 'tilt your head'' "chin up" "your hands look goofy" "give me a serious look" "I said serious, not constipated". Anyway, it was harder than it looks, which is why out of 100 pictures, only 19 made it through the editing process.

In all fairness, Faun looked great in all of them. Ok, most of them. She's a natural. I, on the other hand, felt like my arms grew by 2 feet. They were lanky and flanky and I didn't know what to do with them. Just as I was starting to get the hang of it, Faun would utter those 3 words every profile challenged model hates to hear..."Lets do serious". I was so worried about my chin disappearing when I stopped smiling, that I forgot to suck in my gut. So if there's only 1 serious picture that made it, it's because I looked like a butt protruding, gut flaunting, chin receeding, nose weirding person. I'm not kidding. I don't do serious. Just ask our photographer. We ended up laughing too hard, all thoughts of seriousness gone. Mission accomplished.

I also got to meet the house of one of my idols. Vanessa from V and Co. lives in close proximity to my cousin, so we drove by in hopes that she would be outside, working in her garden or taking fashion tips from her turtled neck sheep. Disappointment. She must have been inside working on a quilt, or better yet, blogging. But...I saw her house! It's darling! Her yard is beautiful too! I felt like somewhat of a stalker, knowing where she lives and all. She's very careful not to disclose her location on her blog, identifying herself as living in "the middle of nowhere utah"...and I know where that is, nah nah. I drove by again on my way home from Faun's, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, working up the courage to stop and say "Hi, I'm one of your admirers, can I have your autograph", but lucky for her, she was inside. Probably whipping up some homemade apple pie in a cute frilly apron that she made. Oh, to be so close.

I wonder where she'll be October 9th? Maybe if she's reading this she can be outside, arranging her pumpkins fastidiously around her yard. Or dressing a cute little scarecrow with overalls that she made out of old pillow cases and worn out jeans. And if I just so happen to drive by on my way to a certain person's house in the middle of nowhere utah, I could stop by and say "Hi. I'm one of your admirers. Could I get a picture with you?"

Just as long as it's not a serious profile, I'm sure she would be great with that!