My Kids' Summer Job Charts

I cut these sheets into strips of three and rotate -- Week #1, Week #2 and Week #3. Each week's strips hang on a large dry-erase board near the stairs and the back door. This system works out nicely as we have three kids and three bathrooms. By doing it this way and rotating assignments, no one can claim that their jobs aren't fair. (You can click on each job sheet to see it clearly.)

Each day has an allowance amount fixed to it. Once all their jobs are done for that day, they have me sign it off. If they choose not to complete all their jobs, they miss out on that day's amount come payday. We also have a rule that they can't play the computer, watch TV or play with friends until their jobs are done. They have pretty big incentives to complete their work which makes it so I don't have to nag so much.

Note: I leave Saturday blank for their dad to give them assignments. I find that if he has three people to boss around on Saturday, he doesn't feel the need to give me assignements too. :)

It Could Happen to You

Many things in life are a pain in the butt. Including toothpicks.

Sunday after church let out, Hubby finally arrived in the foyer and we headed to the car. I opened my door and sat down. And then screamed, “Aaaaah!”

My initial cry was followed by a series of wimpers, “Ow, ow, ow!” as I tried to remove whatever it was that was poking into my behind. (It felt like a darning needle.)

It was, in actuality, a toothpick. A round, pokey-ended toothpick. And as I sat down it went through my denim skirt, slip, and undergarments and into my derriere. (This is my first time typing that word, and I want you to know that I got it right!)

My hubby’s initial worried, “What’s wrong?” was soon followed by robust laughter. Lou, the only other occupant of the car, joined in too. And although still in pain, I saw the humor and chuckled a bit myself.

Upon arriving home Hubby and Lou were quick to share my mishap with Beans and Bug. Everyone thought it hilarious. But it was a nasty little poke and still stung. Just before retreating to my room and shutting the door I said, “I bet it drew blood.”

Sure enough, it did! I asked Hubby to come put a bandage on my behind. (That’s a first.) He thought that a little Neosporin would be a good idea too.

And that’s when I lost it. Hubby had to tell me to quit shaking (from laughter) so that he could put the bandage on. (It was difficult, but I finally held my breath and did it. It was Safety Man and Accident Girl at their finest.)

I soon got over the hilarity of the situation and was surprised at how long the pain lasted. I was still a little bit sore the next morning, but I’m happy to report that I’m doing fine now.

The incident did remind us of the time Bug had a diaper rash at age two. He was a firm believer in the kiss-it-better cure and went to his dad and said, “Daddy, my bottom hurts. Kiss my bottom.”

P.S. We have no idea how the toothpick got there. Our door were locked during services, and no one had any other leads.

How Not to Raise Wimps

You may not know it, but according to Hara Marano, we’re raising a nation of wimps. She’s the author of A Nation of Wimps: The High Cost of Invasive Parenting. The product review of her book at Amazon.com says:

“Parents are going to ludicrous lengths to take the lumps and bumps out of life for their children, but the net effect of parental hyperconcern and scrutiny is to make kids more fragile. When the real world isn’t the discomfort-free zone kids are accustomed to, they break down in myriad ways. Why is it that those who want only the best for their kids wind up bringing out the worst in them?”

Although I haven’t read this book, it has me thinking about my own parenting practices and philosophies.

I’d like to think that I’m not raising wimps. Why just yesterday when my youngest wondered what she could have for lunch, I went down the list: a corndog, ramen, a PB&J sandwich, leftovers – all things unappetizing to her. “Well then,” I told her, “you decide what sounds good and make it yourself.”

She didn’t like that response. She sighed. She moped. I finally told her that she could either make lunch and get on with life or go mope in her room. She chose to make a box of macaroni and cheese.

Believe it or not, macaroni and cheese has had a huge influence on my parenting philosophy. It all started when we had just two kids. They were probably four and two. Hubby and I were headed out to eat and had hired a babysitter, a fourteen-year-old whose mother was our ward’s Relief Society President. I was running through the babysitting basics (this is where the diapers are, here are the first aid supplies, we can be reached at…) and had just explained what she could make for dinner – macaroni and cheese. She had no clue how to make macaroni and cheese. Or even how to boil water.

That’s when I decided that my main goal as an at-home mom was to teach my children how to live without me. I’ve used the making of macaroni and cheese to remind myself not to do for my kids what they can and should be doing for themselves.

Fortunately, I had a great example, my own mother. One of her favorite phrases was, “My mother didn’t do that for me. I’m not going to do it for you.” She used this when I wanted her to, oh … say, do a bit of my homework for me. When I was in elementary school she used the phrase to convince me that it was time to be styling my own hair. In fact, she had a whole little story to tell about a girl she’d gone to school with whose mother was doing her daughter’s hair clear into high school. The moral in all situations was, you don’t want to be needy and dependent on your mother forever do you?

Lately I’ve slipped a bit. I’ve been doing things for my kids (mostly my youngest) that they could be doing for themselves. It’s hard to hold the line and not pamper and spoil. My two oldest kids have very independent natures, but my youngest is a mild, kind, comfort-seeking soul. She doesn’t get mouthy when I refuse to do something for her. She pouts. Acts sad. Puts on her soulful puppy dog eyes and lingers in my general vicinity. As her mother, I want her to be happy. Giving in has been my solution lately. But no more.

I’m going to start labeling her behavior. Possibly saying something like, “You’re pouting because I wouldn’t do your hair this morning. But that’s not going to change my mind. My mother didn’t do my hair when I was nine, and I’m not going to do yours. On very special occasions I’d love to help you, but today’s just a regular old day.”

Hey, that felt good. I can see that my mother’s phrase is going to come in very handy.

Kids are experts at getting what they want from their parents, and because we love them and want them to be happy, we give, give, give. I’m not saying that all giving is bad, but when we start doing things for our kids that they can do for themselves – give them things that they can obtain/earn for themselves, we’re actually enabling. Yuck. Not only is our behavior unhelpful, but it is also damaging to kids’ psychological development.

Kids get much of their self-esteem from doing things, from being and feeling capable and in control. When I constantly do my daughter’s hair, I’m actually sending the message . . . You’re right, you can’t do your hair well.

Just how confident can doing her own hair make a girl feel? Let me illustrate with an unflattering moment from my childhood. I was in a tiff with another girl in my second grade class. We were engaging in the usual playground banter. She might have said, “Oh yeah, well your pants are too short.” I countered with, “Well at least I can part my own hair straight. Yours looks like a lightning bolt down the back.” (I’ve always had a big mouth.)

The truth is, we don’t magically cut the apron strings when our kids go to college or go on missions. It’s a gradual process that starts the day they learn to crawl. We don’t need to me cavalier with our children’s safety – they are precious and priceless – but we also don’t want to create fearful, fragile kids. Encourage your children to do things on their own, try their own wings. Let them fail now so they can learn how to pick themselves up. Most children don’t need you there while they do their homework past first grade. Let them do it themselves. If they don’t do it, give them consequences that don’t involve you holding their hand.

I’ve been obliquely encouraging passive, helpless behavior in my youngest child, but I’m going to stop. I can ask myself, “What hidden message will my action send? Am I doing something for Beans that she can do herself?” And I’m going to stop feeling 100% responsible for her happiness. I can’t make my children happy any more than I can make them behave. In the end, it’s all up to them.

Summer Reading Lists for Kids

Tomorrow is the last day of school for my kids. Watch out summer, here we come!

I've been busy scheming and planning how to make the most of the coming months. New job charts are hot off the press and include 20 minutes of daily reading. In ancitication of them complaining, "there's nothing to read," I've created recommended reading lists for each of my children. Here they are:


Boy – age 14

Lloyd Alexander -- The Black Cauldron (series)

Isaac Asimov -- Foundation and Empire series

Enid Blyton -- The Famous Five books, also her Secret Seven series

Raymond Briggs -- Fungus the Bogeyman

John Buchan -- The Thirty-nine Steps

Orson Scott Card -- Ender’s Game, Speaker for the Dead, Xenocide

Daniel Defoe -- Robinson Crusoe

Alexander Dumas -- The Three Musketeers, The Count of Monte Cristo

Madeleine L’Engle -- A Wind in the Door, A Swiftly Tilting Planet

David Eddings -- The Belgariad (ages 11+)

David Feintuch -- Midshipman’s Hope (series of 7)

Raymond E. Feist -- Magician

Ian Flemming -- James Bond books (ages teen +)

C.S. Forester -- Mr. Midshipman Hornblower (Beat to Quarters is great)

Dick Francis -- private investigations involving British horse racing

David Gemmell -- Waylander (heroic fantasy)

Frank Gilbreth and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey -- Cheaper by the Dozen

Fred Gipson -- Old Yeller, Savage Sam

Chris Heimerdinger -- Tennis Shoes Among the Nephites (series)

James Herriot -- All Creatures Great and Small, All Things Bright and Beautiful, All Things Wise and Wonderful, The Lord God Made Them All

S.E. Hinton -- The Outsiders, Tex, Rumble Fish (teen+)

Geoffrey Household -- Rogue Male (ages 11+)

Rudyard Kipling -- The Jungle Book

Ralph Moody -- Little Britches: Father and I Were Ranchers

Richard Peck -- On the Wings of Heroes

Willard Price -- Underwater Adventure, Arctic Adventure

Mary Shelley -- Frankenstein

Chris Stewart -- Killbox, Shattered Bone, the Great and Terrible series (1st is The Brothers: Prologue)

H.G. Wells -- The Invisible Man


Girl age – 12

Louissa May Alcott -- A Long Fatal Love Chase

Judy Blume -- Tiger Eyes,

Madeleine Brent -- Moonraker’s Bride, Merlin’s Keep

James Hilton -- Goodbye, Mr. Chips

Madeleine L’Engle -- A Wind in the Door, A Swiftly Tilting Planet

Robin McKinley -- Beauty, The Blue Sword, The Hero and the Crown, Door in the
Hedge

Mary Stewart -- Nine Coaches Waiting

Corrie Ten Boom -- The Hiding Place


Girl – age 9

William H. Armstrong -- Sounder

Avi -- The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle

Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson -- Peter and the Starcatchers (series)

Frances Hodson Burnett -- The Secret Garden

Carol Ryrie Brink -- Caddie Woodlawn

P.W. Catanese -- The Thief and the Beanstalk

Gertrude Chandler -- The Boxcar Children

Gennifer Choldenko -- Al Capone Does My Shirts

Beverly Cleary -- The Mouse and the Motorcycle, Ribsy,

Eoin Colfer -- The Artemis Fowl series

Roald Dahl -- The Twits, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, George’s Marvelous Machine, The BFG

Kate DiCamillo -- Because of Winn-Dixie

Julie Andrews Edwards -- Mandy

Nancy Farmer -- A Girl Named Disaster

John D. Fitzgerald -- The Great Brain (series)

Frank Gilbreth and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey -- Cheaper by the Dozen

Shannon Hale -- Princess Academy

Carl Hiaasen -- Hoot and other books

M.M. Kaye -- The Ordinary Princess

Jim Kjelguard -- Big Red

Kirby Larson -- Hattie Big Sky

Lois Lowry -- Number the Stars

Robin McKinley -- Beauty

Mary Norton -- The Borrowers

Richard Peck -- The Teacher’s Funeral: A Comedy in Three Parts, Fair Weather,
Here Lies the Librarian

Wilson Rawls -- Summer of the Monkeys, Where the Red Fern Grows

Kate Douglas Wiggin -- Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm

Laura Ingalls Wilder -- The Little House on the Prairie series


Happy Summer Reading!

Farm Humor

This is a photo of the chicken enclosure under construction. Won't our four chickens live in high style?

Speaking of chickens, my mother told me a joke the other day that had deep meaning.

Q: Do you know why a chicken coop has two doors?

A: Because if it had four, it would be a sedan.


And, wouldn't you know it, our coop has two doors. Here I thought she had some farm knowledge that she was going to impart to little old me. Tee-hee.

In other news, MEN -- PAY ATTENTION! If your wife steps on the scale and groans, then asks, "Why is it going up?!" It is not a time to play Mr. Fix-it. She does not really want an answer. Saying, "Maybe it's because you're not exercising at all," won't help her feel better. She was just asking a hypothetical question.

The better response is, "It's just a number. I love you no matter what the scale says." And mean it!

Should you get this wrong you just might get a glass of cold water thrown at you over the shower curtain the next time you're showering.

And finally, I've been thinking about what I can do for my next high school reunion's talent show. At our last reunion I performed some corny "magic" tricks that were supposed to loosen everyone up by getting them to laugh. It didn't work. Next time I'll show them my amazing new talent -- swallowing many large pills all at once.

Just yesterday I swallowed four gigantic pills (1 vitamin, 2 supplements, and a RX medication) in one swallow. Top that! Safety Man piped up, "Swallowing too much at once is a choking hazard."

That's okay because I'm not planning to attend any high school reunions until our 60th. I'll be 88. So what if I choke. At least I won't be around to hear the silence.

Newsy Bits of Note

Life is happening at break-neck speed. My blogging has suffered and may continue to do so. Check in periodically for updates.

Some recent happenings:

My grandma, Delva Ewing Kofoed, passed away on Saturday May 3rd. I’ll miss her dearly, but have many, many wonderful memories to cherish. It may sound weird, but I enjoyed her funeral. I’d been helping to care for her as her health took a quick decline and had also been doing her books since her move to a retirement home. Hearing the funeral talks helped me remember Grandma in her younger years. I learned something I didn’t know – Grandma used to exercise to Jack LaLane. I also came to realize that I am my mother and grandmother’s daughter. I come from a long line of outspoken, vibrant and life-loving women. Thank you, Grandma!

In other news, I’ve been released from my unofficial calling as choir accompanist and from my official calling as a gospel doctrine teacher. I now serve with Sister Carter as a teacher for the five-year-olds in the Primary. Yippee! After being set apart, I warned the members of our bishopric that five-year-olds are notorious for telling everything they know, and that I just might find out ward news sooner than they do. While the kids haven’t spilled any sensitive information yet, I did get a few chuckles at sharing time today. The children were shown a girl with men’s hands on her head. Sister Bushman asked, “What gift is she getting?” Luke Lee hollered out, “The priesthood!” (He was serious.) All the teachers chuckled. Later we had a visit from a member of the Stake Presidency. As he passed the chairs where my class sat, a visiting girl asked, “Do you know who he is?” Jacob Meikle responded seriously, “He’s our next President.” (Oh, I wish!) The day’s nugget of truth came from Garret Robinson. When asked how the sacrament strengthens our homes, he said, “The bread is blessed so we can be blessed.” Amen.

In less than 30 days we’re going on a family cruise to the Bahamas. And I haven’t lost a pound since we booked the cruise. But I did order a rash guard shirt, swim tights and a cute skirt from the coolibar folks so that I’ll me modestly dressed at the beach. (Note: All swim suits – even modest ones with lots of coverage – should come with a vinyl cling warning to post on customer mirrors. “Swim suits in the mirror may look larger than they appear in catalogs.” Sigh.)

We’ve planted the garden: beans, potatoes, onions, peas, lettuce, zucchini, straight-neck squash, cantaloupe, acorn squash, corn, and raspberries (which we’ve had for a few years). The girls planted flower seeds: lavender, daisies, marigolds, four o’clock mix and another I can’t spell. Now the weeding begins.



When I took Lou to play in a four-on-four soccer tournament this weekend, I was asked to fill in and coach her team of four players – the Hot Chillies. It just so happened that Kristen’s mother had a sombrero in the back of her mini-van. Before the games we’d do the Mexican Hat Dance around the sombrero and end with, “Ole!” I even wore it for a while on the sidelines. When the girls would score I’d do a Spanish yell: “Aarrrreeeeba! Aiiiiyaiiiiiyaiii!” You know, loud and shrill, rolling my Rs. One time I even threw the sombrero into the air. But the wind caught it and it almost landed on the spectators on the adjacent field. Oops! We didn’t win any of our four games, but we sure had fun! We even won the sportsmanship award. Go Chilies! Taco! Taco! Taco! (Note: You can get sunburned in cloudy, overcast, cold weather.)

The photos in this post are courtesy of my daughter, Lou. She’s a budding digital photographer.

Today's Morning Prayer

I’m grateful for today. For the wonderful night’s sleep I had. (No night sweats.) And for waking to bird song. I’m grateful for sunshine, for warmth, for freshly mown grass – especially when it’s cut on the diagonal.

I’m grateful for the fun and excitement the girls and I have had shopping for their room décor. (Note: The Hobby Lobby isn’t open on Sunday. Will I receive blessings from shopping there?) I’m grateful for my sewing skills, for my mother, 4-H leaders and home ec. teachers who taught me well. Bless them.

I’m grateful that I’m a mother. Please help me to be content with the tasks of motherhood. Help me to not wish away the joys of the moment seeking after recognition or praise from others. It seems that every time I’m contemplating writing/speaking/teaching I find that someone else is already filling the niche I hoped to fill. Help me recognize that no one else can fill my motherhood niche. Help me to recognize it as one of life’s most precious blessings.

While I’m on the topic of niches, please bless me with appreciation for other’s talents. Help me overcome my tendency toward envy and, if possible, replace it with gratitude. Help me to recognize and savor the divinity in each individual I meet and observe. I thank thee for my fellow humans. I thank thee that we aren’t all alike and that we don’t all have the same interests, talents, opinions and fashion sense. Help me especially to savor and be thankful for the differences between myself and my teenager and preteen.

Please help me to find joy in the little things – the everyday blessings that I may be overlooking. Kissing my kids before they head off to school. How they all give me kisses before heading to bed – even my fourteen- and twelve-year-olds. Having a son who wants me to watch him hit a shot with his new golf club. A daughter with a big enough bladder that she never has to use the bathroom at school but rushes down the stairs the moment she walk in the door to use the toilet. (Tee-hee.) Chatting with her as she eats her after-school snack. Watching my youngest and her best friend riding their bikes to elementary school. Listening to them giggle. Having everyone gathered around the table for dinner most nights of the week.

Bless me to find enjoyment in making dinner. My calculations show that if I cook six meals a week until my youngest turns 20, I have roughly 3,400 more menus to prepare. Give me strength! And patience.

I’m grateful for my dog. Do you have a dog? I’m grateful that thou hast given them to us as companions and friends. Annie is a bit of a goof-ball, but she’s endearing, energetic, and cheerful. Help me to be more like her, to have her enthusiasm for meeting new people and going new places. I don’t aspire to being able to catch a Frisbee in my mouth, but I’m grateful my dog can. Her athletic abilities and acrobatics make me laugh. I’m grateful for laughter.

Well, I need to be wrapping up. I need to shower and start my day. I’m grateful to live when I do – in a time of running water and flush toilets. But above all, I’m grateful for Thee. For Thy plan of happiness. For thy Son who made it all possible. Help me to remember Him in all that I do. Help me to be a good example as one of His followers.

These things I say, in His name, amen.

Living My Dream . . .

I’ve changed my mind. As usual. I was all gung-ho to write and market “Annie Investigates: The Column written by a dog about dogs for kids.” But life is happening, and I don’t want to miss a moment spending it behind the computer under a deadline. (How spoiled am I that I can just make up my mind not to try to earn a living?!)

I’ve realized that I like doing things. Lots of things. Things like de-junking, cleaning and re-arranging the girls’ bedrooms. Then planning mini-makeovers for their rooms by painting a little and sewing a lot. Projects give me a buzz. Especially completed projects. Have I ever told you that I designed and managed the making of a set of picket fence beds? True story. This picture proves it. (I tried to get Better Homes and Gardens to market the plans in their magazine, but never heard back. Their loss. Perhaps you’ll see a future post of picket fence bed plans. Would you like that? They’re fairly inexpensive. I completed them in 2000 for a cost of $75 each – and I paid someone $50 to make the end-posts. My husband, dad and brother helped out for free.)




Notice that this bed has two matching head/foot boards. That’s because Lou decided that she wanted to have a “couch” bed. And she wanted to have the two tall headboards (minus the pickets – which really made me sad) so that she could have an arm rest. Despite making Beans livid that I’d changed her bed without her notice, I think that the girls like the change. And I’m looking forward to painting and sewing up cute “couch cushions.”

I’ll post photos when they’re finished. But don’t hold your breath. I firmly believe that fabric needs aging. I choose fabric, buy it, and then let it sit for an average of 2 years before completing the intended project. But as my girls are also on board for this project, I foresee using young fabric.

I hope you don’t mind – I’m going to engage in a little bit of show and tell. You know how I said that I love projects? I made the bedspread on the picket fence bed (there is a matching set), and I made the bedspread and dust ruffle for my own bed (photo below). The fabric for my bedspread was aged about three years. Hence it turned out smashing!



Speaking of smashing, I dispatched two young roosters this morning. (Okay, it was more ‘wringing’ than ‘smashing.’) It was awful watching them die, but I told myself that my Grandmother Glenna would be proud. You might think I’m crass and violent, but let me explain. We wanted to get four baby hens this spring as future egg-layers. When my neighbor said that her son’s preschool class was hatching chicks and I could have as many as I wanted for free, I jumped at the chance. (A dollar saved is a dollar you can spend later for something better.) Knowing that the hatch would be straight run – roughly equal in males and females – we decided to get six chicks, hoping that we’d get at least three hens.

In the end we have four hens but two roosters. As I’m a penny pincher, I couldn’t stand the thought of feeding two roosters to maturity and then disposing of them. I decided that today was the day. Originally I’d intended to use the French method (Off with their heads), but remembered that wringing their necks would work too. Unsavory and detestable as the job was, I feel tough, gritty, and strongly connected to my pioneer ancestry.

In fact, I’ve decided that if more people lived with a pioneer mentality, we’d have a much healthier society. The environment wouldn’t be today’s hot-button issue. More families could afford to have just one wage-earner. Fewer spoiled-rotten children would populate our schools. All this if most people in America practiced the time-tested pioneer motto:

Use is up.
Wear it out.
Make it do.
Or do without.

Easier said than done, of course.

Mindful Eating

This morning the Wall Street Journal had a Health Journal article on mindful eating. I needed the reminder. I clipped the article for future reference, but for today’s blog I wanted to remind myself that when I pay attention to my hunger signals and don’t mindlessly munch, I can maintain my weightloss—even lose a bit.

The following is an entry from my Fitness Journal from March 30th.

I guess you could say that this week was my first week of trying to overcome my desire to overeat with the Lord’s help. So far, so good.

I got on the scale this morning and had lost a bit from last week. But the best thing is, I’m not constantly obsessing about food.

There were three days this week when I knelt down in the morning and asked Heavenly Father to bless me with the desire to do His will and to eat only when I’m hungry and not overeat. All three days were great days!

On the other days of the week I got into a morning rush and forgot to pray. Although I said silent, quick prayers in my heart throughout the day, it was not the same as when I took three to five minutes of time on my knees at the start of the day and poured my soul out to the Lord.

I need to remember that my spiritual needs (prayer) are just as, if not more, important than my physical needs (shower, dressing, breakfast).

Prayer is the ultimate way to start the day!!

Note: It is freeing not to have to measure and write down every little thing I eat. And cooking and shopping are much simpler too. With the extra mental energy I have, I feel better able to focus on my family, fun hobbies and even my writing. That’s certainly a blessing of eating only when I’m hungry and stopping when I’m full.

Tales of Mother's Day

My friend called last night with the latest laugh from her son, Landon. In their ward’s primary the children created Mother’s Day coupons to give to their mothers. When my friend sat down to read the coupons from Landon, her nine-year-old, this is what they said:

This Mother’s Day coupon good for . . . doing the job of your choice. Love, Whitten

This Mother’s Day coupon good for . . . making your bed. Love, Jade and Shiloh

This Mother’s Day coupon good for . . . making dinner. Love, Dakota

What a clever little boy! My friend got a good chuckle and an idea for what to include in her own mother’s belated Mother’s Day card – coupons! Her favorite one is:

This Mother’s Day coupon good for . . . tracing your genealogy back to Adam. Love, Jody

What Mother’s Day coupons would you make for your mother care of your siblings?

Now for some reflections on my own Mother’s Day. It was bliss. My hubby really worked extra hard so that I wouldn’t have to. (Thank you, honey!) And the talks in Sacrament Meeting were inspiring and non-guilt inducing. In fact, our Sunday School President’s whole talk was meant to serve as an antidote to the usual “my mother is perfect” fare which gets recited on Mother’s Day.

As he was speaking I whispered to my husband, “All mothers have perfect moments.” I followed that up with, “Most of mine are while I am sleeping.” Which is true. Especially now that I have a new, soft mattress.

Truth be told, I’ve always wanted to speak on Mother’s Day. Not only would I share the little truth I discovered – All mothers have perfect moments -- but I would also point out that no mother is perfect. Mine included. But my mother is memorable.

I spent a little time yesterday jotting down some of the things I’ve learned from my mom. I call them Life Lessons from Leslie. Here they are:

1. Save your receipts.

2. Cooking is overrated. Find a few dishes the family likes and set up a rotation.

3. Life is uncertain – eat dessert first!

4. You can never have too much of a good thing. (In her case, earrings and blackberry Jell-O.)

5. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. So learn to make your husband’s favorite dessert.

6. Live, love, and laugh! Laughing until the tears roll down creates moments to remember.

7. Love yourself. Mom said, “Whenever you’re running for an office, always vote for yourself!” I also credit her with much of my own self-confidence. Her self-assurance bolstered my own. I knew that because she valued herself, as her daughter I must also have intrinsic value.

Thanks, Mom!

Recent Pleasures

Just a few things that I have really gotten a kick out of. . .

Hubby reading aloud from Sunday of the Living Dead by Robert Kirby & Pat Bagley in bed last night. I especially enjoyed the chapter featuring Kirby’s suggestions for the next hymnal. Our favorite was These Boots are Made for Tracting – “and one of these days these boots are gonna tract all over Yuma, Arizona.” It was great to watch Hubby laugh out loud.

Home grilled hamburgers.

Calling the kids home from Israelsen Park using our family’s signature call – blasts from an airhorn. Short, short, looooong! (It sure beats hollering.)

Letting our dog in with the growing chicks and having her simply sniff them. And try to lick their feet. But no biting. See, she really is a nice dog!

Chatting with friends on the sidelines of Lou’s soccer games. Kayla helped motivate me to see just how close I am to getting my teaching certificate current. (Thanks, Kayla.)

Nemesis’s blog about biking. (You MUST check it out and read the comments too.)

Spring blossoms: daffodils, forsythia, apricot (popcorn) blossoms, sand cherry trees, grape hyacinth.

Beans coming in from school with yellow dandelion stains all over her face! (What a cute face!)

Looking through photos from my summer in Japan with Lou. Watching her put together her school report on Japan. Taking her to a Japanese restaurant and having her try sushi. (She’ll pass.) Eating tuna sushi with wasabi. Ouishi desu!

Wrapping a few things for myself for Mother’s Day. But also knowing that Hubby has bought me something too.

Looking forward to the kids’ homemade Mother’s Day gifts.

Weeding the front flowerbed with the wheel hoe and feeling like a gritty, tough, pioneer-stock woman!

More on Modest Swimwear

I’ve been thinking about modest swimwear again. Years ago when we lived in Layton, Utah I went visiting teaching with Shirley. She had grown up in a very conservative Baptist household who had Mennonite friends and leanings, but she had converted to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, commonly known as the Mormons. Shirley was big on modesty, especially for herself and her girls. The girls in their household dressed much like the FLDS women that we’re seeing so much of in the news lately – long pioneer-style dresses with opaque socks and sensible shoes. Only Shirley and her girls also wore scarves on their heads.

On one of our visiting teaching outings Shirley and I got talking about modest swimming suits. I was curious to know what her girls wore when they went to the local Surf N’ Swim. She explained that they simply wore their dresses. If I were still in contact with Shirley, I’d show her the website for Wholesomewear’s slimmer suits. I think they would have fit the bill for her ultra-conservative modesty standard.

Everyone has their own comfort level when it comes to modesty, but I like what Sister Lori Watts taught us in Relief Society a few years ago. She demonstrated modesty by singing, “Head shoulders, knees and toes.” When she sang “head,” she raised her hands above her head and demonstrated no midriff should be showing. When she came to “shoulders,” she pointed out that coverage should come over the shoulders – no bra straps exposed. “Knees” meant that shorts and skirts come near the knees. When Sister Watts bent to touch her toes, she pointed out that no cleavage or midriff should show. I actually use this handy little song when shopping with my kids. If the clothing they’re trying on can’t pass the head, shoulders, knees and toes test, we don’t buy it.

When it comes to swimming suits, I don’t think it’s necessary that they come near the knee. But you can buy ones that do – even modern looking ones. The coolibar website is probably where I’ll purchase my next swimming suit. As someone with a family history of skin cancer, I like the added sun protection that these swim styles offer in addition to modesty.

I was surprised, however to see that some popular Utah-based clothing lines that tout themselves as being modest don’t really deliver when it comes to swimwear. DownEast clothing company and Lime Ricki Swimwear both have belly baring tankinis. The Shade Clothing Company does have tankini tops that are longer, but the bottoms are slung low on the hips – not my definition of modest.

My favorite place to buy modest swimsuits is Lands' End. You can find them on-line at http://www.landsend.com or in Sear's stores that carry clothing. Best thing is, the suits are made to last!

If you want to go ultra-modest (even by my friend Shirley’s standards), check out Jelbab.com’s line of Islamic swimwear. Now that’s coverage!

Column-writing dog needs your help . . .

Annie is going to write a newspaper column, but she needs your help. You see, she's preparing sample columns of "Annie Investigates" to send to prospective papers. What we're looking for are quirky questions that Annie can investigate and answer. Questions that children and adults will want to know the answers to.

Annie is currently working on writing up her findings to the question, "Where is it polite to burp after dinner?" Another topic that has piqued her curiosity is how the cyclists on the Tour de France relieve themselves during the grueling race. (Annie loves bicycles!)

If you've got a question that you've always wanted to know the answer to, send it to Annie courtesy of this blog or my e-mail address. We'll do the investigating.

(We'll also let you know when we've got Annie's proposal packet ready, and you can send us the contact information for your hometown newspaper so you can read every tantilizing article.)

Is the menu a lie?

I spent approximately an hour this morning working on May’s family dinner menu. My two main goals for spring cooking are: 1) to make something the kids won’t whine about and 2) to keep it healthy -- doable on Weight Watchers. I’m also looking to try at least one new recipe a week so that I don’t get bored.

There is an art to making menus. But before I go into the details, let me just say up front that the menu may be a lie. Take this month, for example. Of the thirty days in the month, the menu lied 14 times. (The menu planner cannot be called a liar. When she prepared the menu it was the gospel truth.) Breakfast is the meal most likely to deviate from the menu. Mostly because the kids don’t like oatmeal and won’t make it themselves. Sometimes it’s because I didn’t bake muffins the night before for them to eat in the morning. So although cold cereal is only listed three mornings a week, we probably eat it an average of six days a week. Dinner may be a lie too. Such as last night – the menu said I’d make Nan Petersen’s macaroni casserole, but the troops ate cold cereal instead. (See actual sample scan of our April menu .)



But back to the art of menu making. . . I’ve got a complicated little system. I start by digging out my binder with saved menus from the last two years (if menus are saved, does that mean they go to heaven? Just a thought). Next I get out the huge desktop calendar that I hang on a dry-erase board near the back door. Before assigning dishes to days, I carefully coordinate what’s happening in the month with what will be for dinner. No labor intensive meals on nights I’ve had activity days and student council meeting. You know the drill. If I need defrosted chicken for Thursday’s meal, I write “defrost chicken” on the family calendar on Tuesday. All this takes much thought and effort. In fact, after this morning’s planning and calculating of an hour, I’m still not finished with the month’s menu.

Hmmm. So let me see if I’m getting this. I’ve spent an hour on a menu that will be a lie almost 50% of the time. And cold cereal is the kids’ favorite substitute for when the menu is a lie. Hmmm. Cold cereal is definitely something the kids don’t complain about eating, and it is fairly healthy – at least the stuff I eat. I suppose that I could branch out and try some new cereals to keep from getting bored. Hmmm.

Maybe menu making isn’t an art after all. I’ll just write “cold cereal” in all the slots, and then maybe the menu won’t be a lie!

Running the bread machine but forgetting the yeast

I did it again. I ran the bread machine but forgot to add the yeast. Notice the word, ‘again.’ This was my third or fourth batch of failed bread. Actually, that’s not true. This was just a failed batch of dough. I was going to make breadsticks to go along with dinner. They were the part of the meal that the kids were most likely to eat, as the main dish was grilled halibut. (Crazy kids!) Fortunately my kids found my lack of bread machine skills more amusing than disappointing. Whew.

In other mundane news, it’s the day before the last day of the month. This means that in two days I will have a new month’s budget to spend. And until then I shall not spend anything. (Do you look forward to the start of a new month as much as I do?)

Continuing in the trend of newsy bits of nothing, I walked the dog this morning. I took along our new digital camera. Here are some things I saw on our walk. (Note: The forsythia shot makes a great desktop wallpaper to remind yourself that it’s really spring. It’s especially good for snowy days.)




Concluding today’s post on a sobering note, my grandmother’s health is failing. I’m witnessing it first hand as I’m helping with her meals. This morning she knew me, remembered that my cousin had gotten married on Saturday, and seemed fairly with-it. But yesterday she had zero energy, could hardly hold her glass of water, was very unstable on her feet, and often made random comments. She also slept most of yesterday.

I know that our time on earth is limited, but seeing the winding up days of Grandma’s life really puts my own life in perspective. Family matters. Friends matter. Clean counters are optional.

Modest Swimwear

I've been thinking a lot about a recent post by Flashlight Girl. In my comment to her post I stated my desire to purchase a modest tankini, possibly from Land's End. Maybe something like this one. (Click on the shot of the woman with her arms raised in the air. Notice how her belly is still covered. That's my criteria for a modest tankini.)

One part of my comment on Flashlight Girl's post that has caused me to re-think my swimsuit position, was my reference to underwear in a comment that was about swimsuits. I don't know how many times I've been looking through ads with my girls and pointed out that wearing a bikini is like wearing your underwear to the beach. And yet for me, a tankini is less coverage than my underwear. I've often longed for a return to swimsuit styles from the 1920s. (The photo at the start of this blog is from 1918, I believe.) Don't look now, but it's possible to get a modest swimsuit that offers more coverage than your underwear!

Check out this site. Now that is a lot of coverage! Modest, modern, and I'm guessing much more comfortable than what I've been wearing. I'm going to get one!

But I've got to love a few pounds first.

Original Joke by Beans:
Knock, knock
Who's there?
Robin.
Robin who?
Robbin the bank, of course. Shhh. Don't tell.

6-word mini-memoirs

I read a book review printed in my local paper from the Christian Science Monitor for the book, Not Quite What I Was Planning by Larry Smith and Rachel Fershleiser. In the spirit of six-word mini-memoirs, I’ve written my own. You choose which you’d rather read. (And possibly vote in the comments section or leave six-word comments. Six-word anything. Try it!)

My Mini-Memoirs

Love to laugh ‘til I snort.

Magna cum laude stays at home.

The brains behind Ramen for dinner.

Dreamer, schemer, soccer game screamer.

Mormon mother mines meaning, makes messes.

Great expectations lead to reality checks.

Finally learned how to endure gracefully. (My memoirs of my 80s.)

Thursday

It’s been a rough morning. Poopy, really. No matter what I’ve tried so far, I’m undistractible. I’ve read from “A Thousand Splendid Suns.” But it’s definitely not the book to read to raise one’s spirits. Before showering I put on my “kick butt” playlist of exercise tunes. No help.

So I pulled out the big guns – music from the 1940s. I listened to it yesterday too with the same result – a lift in mood. I guess listening to songs with lyrics like, “Down went the gunner. . .” followed by, “Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition,” puts my troubles in perspective. To the listeners of the ‘40s facing war, food rationing and no nylons, music was written to lift. Apparently it still works. Perhaps it’s because it’s big band, and I can almost picture myself twirling across the floor as the singer croons away on stage. (“Boogie-woogie Bugle Boy” is playing now, and I can’t help but snap my fingers and tap my toes.)

And here I thought that country music was the music to listen to when you’re feeling low. After all, whose problems could be worse than those in the country ballads? They’re “goin’ through the big D and I don’t mean Dallas,” wondering “whose bed have [his] boots been under.” You know the country-western drill. In fact, do you know what you get when you play country-western music backwards? You get your wife back, your truck back, your dog back . . .

On a side note, do you know what you get when you play the Mormon Tabernacle Choir backwards? Jell-O recipes.

Mudlucious . . .

This is the first year that we've had bulbs blossom at this house. I love daffodils! Which reminds me of one of my favorite camp songs . . . I love the mountains, I love the rolling hills, I love the fountains, I love the daffodils. . . In addition to daffodils, we have crocus too. They're all lovely harbingers of spring.

Just so you know, last year I mentioned being grateful for daffodils and forsythia bushes on March 27th. Well, it's now towards the end of April and we're barely into the forsythia and daffodils. But hey, it will be worth a delayed warm-up if we can avoid the five or so late frosts like we had last year that caused many a happy gardener to re-plant (ourselves included).

The photos at the beginning of this blog are to demonstrate the fun capabilities of one of my favorite websites. Best part is, it's free. You should see what the kids have done to the faces of friends and family on this site. Actually, I posted the pics that the kids altered of themselves, but they demanded that I take them off. So here's a photo of yours truly:



Now you know why I named my post "mudlucious." Because my name was Mud when the kids saw I posted. (Tee-hee!)

Golf Mania at Belly Acre Farm

Hubby and Bug love to golf. And since we have a long, narrow lot, they often use it as their own personal driving range. What should I infer from a toolbox that is mostly filled with golf balls? Should I be worried about Hubby getting distracted when he goes out to work in the garage?

I've taken a couple photos to show where they tee off from and where the back of our proberty is, but I'm having trouble getting them to upload to my blog. Suffice it to say that I found 12 golf balls in the back pasture this morning on my way home from the morning walk with the dog. It felt like an Easter egg hunt all over again. I'm actually quite proud of my tally.

In other news, I'm also proud of the clever disguise I've made for the Metamucil container that I leave by the sink. (Despite following the Weight Watcher program and eating high-fiber foods, my body needs more. Hence the necessity of Metamucil on my countertop.) Anyway, at our last activity day meeting we covered containers in contact paper to use as desk accessories. Well, I decided that I could apply the same concept to camoflauging my fiber needs. What do you think?



Fiber, anyone?

Help me, I'm eating again . . .

I need the Lord’s help to conquer my over-eating, but I need to be humble and ASK. Pray at the fridge – or better yet – flee the kitchen like Joseph fled from Potiphar’s wife. (Do you think it would help to post a photo of an Egyptian looking woman on my fridge to remind me to flee from food temptations as Joseph fled from Potiphar’s wife?) When I’ve fled the kitchen, I can pray and ask for inspiration to distract me from emotional eating.

While I’m on the topic of emotional eating, I’ve been thinking about what roles food plays in my emotional well-being.

I’ve been using food to provide:
Comfort
Fun
Pleasure
Distraction

Those are all things that I need in my life, but food is NOT an appropriate outlet for those needs. (Reminder to self: food is fuel for my physical needs.) If I am to overcome emotional eating, I need to seek to have my emotional needs met by something other than food. Here are some ideas I’ve come up with.

I can find COMFORT through:
The Lord (praying to Him, being grateful for all He’s provided for me to enjoy as I go for walks).
Writing.
Talking with a family member or close friend.
Hanging out with my dog.

I can have FUN without food by:
Focusing my attention at social gatherings on people – interacting with them, learning more about them, listening to their funny stories, laughing with them.
Observing the children at family gatherings (watching as they make a mess while eating, listening in on their innocent conversations) and by playing with them too.
Playing more games with my kids and hubby.
Doing crafts with the girls.
Playing with the dog. Teaching her new tricks. Going on hikes/outings with her during the day when the kids are at school.
Being sure to have a date each week with my sweetie.
Having game nights and inviting other couples.
Working on projects that are just for fun – my chalkboard, the tree mural and birdhouses.
Writing goofy stuff (Annie entries, Chicken Scratch)

I can find PLEASURE by
Walking with the dog
Arranging for Hubby to come home for lunch more often.
Listening to Norah Jones, Frank Sinatra, Sting and the tracks on my PlayFour playlist on my i-pod.
Spreading a blanket on the grass and lying in the sun!
Buying wonderful smelling body lotion
Investing in nice leg shaving tools and using sunless tanner, then buying clothing that show off my nice smooth legs.
Wearing clothing that makes me feel WONDERFUL! (And not putting off buying the clothes in the hopes of losing more weight.)
Getting a pedicure and then maintaining it with kicky nail colors.
Taking a long, quiet soak in the Jacuzzi.
Doing yoga at the Rec. center on Thursday mornings.
Visiting local art galleries and savoring the emotional response the pieces generate.

I can counter-act boredom and find DISTRACTION without eating by:
Going for a walk.
Blogging or writing in a journal.
Tackling a job that needs doing (like sorting and putting away the winter hats and gloves).
Taking some outdoor photos to use as desktop wallpaper or for blog posting.
Working on making a music/photo DVD.
Updating my books at goodreads.com.
Adding songs / deleting dumb ones on my i-pod. Downloading ones that I’ve been wanting.
Reading a book (but NOT munching). Instead, I can read outside or at the library, or even drive to a bookstore/cocoa shop and read there.
Cutting up old jeans for future sewing projects.
Playing the piano.
Trying to write poetry.
Practicing new songs on my penny whistle or recorder.
Using one of the girls’ digital recorders and cackling like a witch, then posting it on my blog.
Whistling and recording a few classics to post.
Looking for publishing opportunities on-line.
Calling Lauri or another girlfriend.
Trying to sketch something.
Selecting a quote to have Angie do in vinyl.

Dog Writes Blog Entry

Woof! (Pant, pant, pant.) It’s me, Annie. That nice lady that cleans out my kennel and waters me every morning is letting me write this entry. Hee, hee!

What to write? What to write? (Pant, pant.) I have to say that this internet socializing stinks. Or doesn’t stink, is the problem. How am I supposed to get a feel for you, the reader, if I can’t smell you? Or lick you? Or try jumping on you? (My master doesn’t like it when I jump on people, but if you don’t act like it bothers you, I’m all for it!)

My master and I took a walk this morning. It seemed early. Maybe she woke up with a headache, took two Excedrin and couldn’t go back to sleep. I don’t really care what her reasons were for walking early, I was just happy to get out! I love walking with my master. And running alongside her when she rides her bike. And playing catch with her. And playing tug with her. And wrestling with her. Would you like to wrestle with me? I’d be nice. Promise.

There were many good smells this morning. The pee and poop that other neighborhood dogs deposited. (I made some pee markings of my own). A dead robin. A discarded burger wrapper. A cute little puppy let me sniff her. And play with her. I was extra nice ‘cause she was small. We stopped in at Chip and Grandpa’s house. Chip smelled the same as usual – pretty strong. I also sniffed Grandpa’s newest horse. His nose had tickly little hairs on it, but his breath didn’t stink. Smelled like alfalfa. Boy did I wish my master would let me off the leash so I could go roll in some horse manure. It’s the best!

Nugent barked as we jogged by on our way home. My master said, “Hi!” I wagged my tail. I have a nice tail. Sometimes I chase it. I’ve even caught it a time or two. (Pant, pant.) We met Marty and Glen Israelsen too. Their hands smelled like gasoline. I guess they’d been filling a chain saw with fuel. There weren’t many cats out and about this morning. Dang. I like cats. But they don’t seem to like me. They get all puffy and hissy when I introduce myself and want to play with them. Why do you think that is? I’m nice enough, aren’t I?

All too soon our walk was over. I went into my kennel just like my master likes and waited for her to take off the pinch collar. (The pinch collar isn’t as bad as it sounds. It’s just harder for me to really pull on the leash when I wear it, but that’s okay. Pulling is overrated.) She put my regular collar back on my neck, and I drank some water. Aaah! There’s no place like home.

-------------------

Christie’s Present Pleasures (from our walk this morning):
The squeaky wings of a pair of Mallard ducks as they flew over us
A Mourning Dove’s sad call
The strut of a beautiful ring-neck pheasant
The tippity-tap of a flicker hammering on a tree somewhere
The soft under belly of M.J., the cute Border Collie puppy we met

Morning Prayer

I haven't said my morning prayer yet. Which isn't unusual. I'm trying to develop a habit of morning prayer. Notice the word 'trying.' And trying. On successful prayer mornings I don't allow myself to make the bed until I kneel down and say my morning prayer. But I got busy today and made the bed early -- before I'd even thought about prayer. Oops.

And by the way, Science Teacher Mommy, many of my kneel-down prayers are what I call ceiling bouncers. But I figure that the act of getting on my knees and thinking about the Lord must count for something. Show some kind of humble devotion. Answers to prayer rarely come while I'm on my knees. Instead, they percolate (can you write 'percolate' if you're not a coffee drinker?) and bubble up while I'm walking the dog, putting on my make-up, or driving the car. Really big answers often come during Sunday church services.

I'm even trying a new dieting technique that involves prayer. A month ago I read a book on the Weigh Down Diet Workshop which advocates praying to the Lord for strength to do His will and overcome the urge to overeat. On mornings that I remember to pray, when I ask for strength and seek, in prayer, to do the Lord's will, I don't overeat. So why don't I pray for help every morning? Do I get too busy? What's so sacred about kneeling by my bed? Wouldn't kneeling by the fridge actually be most helpful? Could I write a prayer while at the computer? If I post it on my blog, is that sacrilegious? Is it a good idea to demonstrate to the three readers of my blog just know shallow and unrighteous I am?

Here goes.

Dear Lord,

I'm grateful to thee for computers, for keyboards, for the teachers who taught me how to type, and for advancements in writing methods that don't require keeping brass plates. But I am grateful that Nephi and the other prophets from the Book of Mormon obeyed and diligently kept the Brass Plates.

I'm grateful for make-up. Thou knowest that I've been vain ever since I was a child and prayed for long fingernails and high heels. Even though Brian Hawkes once told me in high school that when he first met me he didn't think I was cute, at least thou hast blessed me with a personality that changed his mind. And I can't help thinking that make-up helps too. Is make-up one of the inventions that you had a hand in bringing about? Does it help to reflect our inner beauty? Or is it a way for mothers to bond with daughters? Because I have enjoyed sharing make-up moments with Lou, as she's 12 years old now. Thank thee for Loula Belle!

And I thank thee for Beans. I'm having a hard time lately with her sullen moods. When she's not happy I feel it's my responsibility to make her happy. And I think that pressure is causing me much stress. Lord, I love it when my family members are happy. But is it my job to make them happy? And how do I maintain my happiness and emotional equilibrium when the kids or Hubby are out of sorts? If I’m trying to make others happy is that kind of like trying to make others obey? I guess I know what I should do – act like I know I should (kindness, gentleness, meekness, love unfeigned) and then allow others to choose how they act. That’s hard. Please help me get better at that.

I’d like to thank thee for good friends. For those women who attended the Out to Lunch Ladies luncheon yesterday. I enjoyed sharing in their laughter, swapping stories, and feeling understood. Also, I’m grateful for Linda. She’s a wonderful friend. Bless her for being so good to me.

And wilt thou be with the Young family as Hannah goes in for heart surgery? I pray that the surgeon and medical personnel will be led to zap the nerves that are causing her heart to mis-fire. I thank thee for modern medicine. Bless Brother Krebs in his knee surgery recovery. And Sister Thompson in her double knee replacement recovery. Be with the Koeven family in SLC as they are dealing with the loss of their husband and father. I’m grateful for eternal families. Thank you for your wonderful plan of happiness!

There’s more to say, Lord, but I need to wrap this up. Please be with me to make wise choices today. In eating, speaking, and conducting myself. Also help me have fun. Isn’t fun okay? You’ve got a sense of humor, don’t you? I hope so and feel that you must. Thanks for blessing others with wonderful talents that they share. For the musicians who perform on the CDs I listen to, for the authors who write uplifting fiction, and for Steve Easton’s column in the Herald Journal. He’s a quirky Mormon, and maybe I am too. Bless me this day, I pray. Amen.

Fave Fives . . .

Not long ago my mother asked me what my five favorite birds were. I thought that would be a good start to today’s entry of my fave fives of many different things. Each listing is in no particular order. They don’t necessarily go from most favorite to least favorite. Or vice versa. (Isn’t ‘vice versa’ a great phrase?) Also, these are my favorites as of today. Tomorrow could change everything.

My Five Favorite Birds:
red-wing blackbird
robin
sandhill crane
pheasant
meadow lark

My Five Favorite Books:
The Book of Mormon
Gift from the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh
Any book in The Far Side collection
Moonraker’s Bride by Madeleine Brent
Ramona the Pest by Beverly Cleary

My Five Favorite Main Dishes to Make for Supper:
crockpot meatballs (from a bag) in spaghetti sauce (from a can) over penne pasta (from a box)
chicken tenders (from a bag) with green beans (home canned), garlic toast, and applesauce (home canned)
Hawaiian haystacks (everyone can select what they like for toppings with minimal complaints)
Pappa Murphy take-and-bake pizza
grilled cheese sandwiches, tomato soup, and green beans

My Five Favorite Jobs to Delegate to My Children:
total toilet treatment
scooping the cat’s liter box
unloading the dishwasher
vacuuming the stairs (this is one I wish they’d do, but that I always seem to do myself)
cleaning sinks and counters in the bathrooms

My Five Favorite Body Parts:
eyes
ears
mouth
nose
brain

My Five Favorite Smells:
Russian Olive blossoms
newly mown grass
baking bread
meat cooking on a grill (especially our grill)
lilac blossoms

My Five Favorite Words:
repentance
forgiveness
atonement
mercy
Christ


My Five Favorite Things to Repeat:
You need to take a shower tonight.
Have you practiced the piano?
Are your jobs done?
Annie, fetch!
I love you.

My Five Favorite Outdoor Activities:
playing with the dog
working in the yard
walking
riding my bike
eating dinner on the back patio

My Five Favorite Childhood Memories:
Playing tomato baseball after the garden froze.
Dad pulling us behind Rabagar over the snowy fields on an innertube.
Sleeping out in the igloo Dad made in our front yard.
The Sunday morning Andy and I found an injured American Kestrel on our way to the end of the lane to retrieve the Sunday paper, and it hopped up his arm and onto his thick stocking hat. (he took it inside.)
Playing with Cleo, our dog.

Feelin' Farmy

My hubby is Safety Man at his work. He’s the one in charge of keeping all the employees safe. And some of them don’t particularly like the safety rules – lately it’s about compliance with the fire safety codes. (Note: Candle warmers are a No! No!) Because Hubby is such a nice, approachable guy, his co-workers feel free to tell him what they really think about some of the safety regulations. This causes him stress. (But something must be working because his workplace is one of 14 employers to be specially recognized by the Worker’s Compensation Fund of Utah.) Anyway, I came up with a hand-dandy new slogan for him.

Safety Man: Do what he says, and nobody gets hurt!

Of course my Sweet Baboo is self-effacing enough to never use it. So I called the HR manager who is his supervisor. She thought it was catchy and fun. I hope she uses it soon!

In other news, my dog is great! She is an expert at catching objects in mid-air. Tennis balls. Frisbees. Tug toys. A chewed and battered old soccer ball. Dog biscuits. Rocks. I’m not happy about the rocks. The little neighborhood toddlers give them to her through her kennel. She tosses them up in the air, catches them and then spits them out. Oh, and she’s also pretty good at riding in our wheelbarrow. (I tried it yesterday after raking up and dumping a bunch of grass.) She jumps in and stays for short rides. Annie is awesome!

Belly Acre Farm is getting more and more farm like. We’ve got six little chicks out in the garage. Never mind that we got them for free from our little neighbor’s preschool. They’re leghorns. Straight run, so we don’t know how many will be hens and how many will be roosters. (The roosters, sorry to say, won’t last long. Their fate will be similar to my favorite verse of “She’ll be coming ‘round the mountain” – the one that mentions the Old Red Rooster.) Hubby and I were discussing the overall plan for where to put the chicken coop and run. Our favorite spot is farthest away from electrical access. He wondered if it would be possible to use solar power. I about died laughing! We could have the only solar-powered chicken coop in the valley. Giggle, giggle.

Things are really starting to buzz around our place, or they will be by the end of the month. That’s when we try our hand at being bee farmers. Hubby just received his order of bee gear – pith helmet, face nets, white jumpsuit, special gloves – even the little smoker thing to keep the bees subdued. The girls had fun trying it all on. (Photos to be posted shortly.) He’ll take delivery of the actual buzzing insects on the 26th. Bee-u-tiful!




And finally, no one in our family has gone longer than 3 days without complaining. We bought the purple reminder bands (www.acomplaintfreeworld.org) for everyone and had a special Family Home Evening lesson to kick start our family’s foray into reduced complaining, gossiping and use of sarcasm. I can’t say that we’ve been too successful. The kids aren’t even wearing their bands anymore. Hubby and I do, but the longest I’ve gone without complaining, gossiping or using sarcasm is three days. Sigh. (Sighs don’t count as actually complaining.)

Sigh.

Hurray for Libraries!

In today's blog I'm stating my opinion about the possibility of a county-wide library system in my area. I'm 100% FOR IT!!

In fact, I've signed the on-line petition. You can too. You'll find it HERE.

If you need a little convincing that a county-wide library system is a GREAT idea for our area, I've included a copy of the letter that I e-mailed to the mayor of my city.

Dear Sir,

I am a resident in favor of a county-wide library system. I have been following the recent movement to bring country-wide access to libraries with much interest. I know that as mayor your responsibility is to do what is in the best interest for the citizens of our community, and I appreciate your candor and position. I believe that our city's residents will not "suffer" under a shared library system. In fact, I think that residents here will have a lot to gain. For starters, we'll have access to books in the Big City's Library. I understand their collection is greater than ours. Also, I believe that library access contributes to an informed citizenry, and no one lives in complete isolation. If more residents of our valley have access to libraries, our valley can only benefit -- and that includes Happy Acres.

I was born and raised in Cache Valley, living most of my childhood in Hyrum. I remember going to the library when it was on the corner of 100 East and 100 North in Logan. I also spent many happy hours in the Hyrum City library under the watchful eye of the librarian, Bessie Brown. The Bookmobile was another favorite summer haunt from my childhood. I was too young to remember when county access to the Logan library was abolished, but now I'm old enough to know that was a mistake. My adult years in Davis County, Utah and Bannock County, Idaho have shown me that county-wide library systems are a real boon for their communities. And it's about time we had one again!

Basing decisions strictly on "What's in it for me?" is no way to govern or to educate.

Thanks for listening to my opinion.

Also, I've taken the opportunity to talk with Brian Chambers, my representitive on the Cache County Council and a member of the committee charged with looking into the feasibility of a county-wide library. He said that many citizens have been concerned that a county-wide system would fund the building of a new library for Logan City. He assured me that it's just not so! So if that was a concern of yours, erase it.

Finally, I'm including the blog address for the man who started the on-line petition. Check it out. Decide how you feel about libraries, and if you're of the same mind as me, go ahead and sign the petition.

Happy Reading!

Memories of Microfilm

Tonight while I was down working out on the Nordic Track I thought about how my twelve-year-old daughter had taught me how to better use Google’s search capabilities. That thought led me to a memory of my mother and me up at the USU Merrill Library (which no longer exists). She was teaching me how to do research for my debate class. We looked through the card catalog, through some index of periodicals. She even showed me how to look up and use microfilm and microfiche.

This memory made me feel positively ancient. Up until Lou’s recent lesson on finding images on Google, I’d been the one disseminating technological information to my kids. I’d heard about kids showing parents how to program VCRs and work mp3 players, but that had never been me. Until now. Sigh.

The Importance of Friends

Friendships multiply Joys and divide Griefs. – Thomas Fuller

Three friends and I met at Winger’s in Brigham City for lunch recently. We first became friends in high school and college, and our lives have taken us in multiple directions. It seems a bit odd that Brigham City is now the central meeting place.

Do you know how to tell you’ve got a true friend? She’s someone who suggests lunch at Maddox but is perfectly happy to substitute Wingers when you plead poverty at the end of the month. A true friend is more interested in great conversation than in great food. (I have three true friends!)

Six months have passed since I last saw these friends. Julie shocked Mindi and me when she walked in with short dark hair. (We’ve always known her as a blonde.) The waitress saw that we were still waiting for another friend, but wondered if we wanted to order before she arrived. We all looked at each other. I said, “It is Jennifer.” After exchanging knowing glances, we unanimously told the waitress we’d wait a bit longer.

When Jennifer found us in the corner booth, the four of us probably sounded like a coop of reunited chickens. Baa-gock! Look at your hair. Cluck-cluck, what happened to your eyelid? Bok-bok, where did you get that jacket?

After settling in a bit and making our orders, we got down to the business of catching up. Mindi reported that they’d finally figured out what had been causing her daughter’s health problems – a thyroid disorder. Things were looking up. Jennifer described her latest successful craft project -- making sugar peek-a-boo Easter eggs with her girls. (Jennifer seems always to be having culinary adventures.) Julie, however, had sobering news. Her ten-year-old niece was dying of a brain tumor.

A collective hush fell over our corner of the restaurant. We spoke in subdued voices. We wondered how Julie’s sister is coping. How has her niece handled so large a trial at such a young age? How have her own children reacted to their cousin’s failing health? As Julie talked, our faces expressed our spoken and unspoken shock, concern and love. Our conversation centered on the necessities of life: faith, family, friends.

Our food came, and the prospect of eating something we didn’t have to prepare lifted our spirits some. We began grousing a bit about the realities of being The Mom. Mindi mentioned that in the last year she’s probably gone to bed in the P.M. hours only about ten times. Julie also burned the midnight oil. Of all of us, I went to bed the earliest. Laundry came up. Jen and Mindi do multiple loads a day, but Julie and I are once-a-week washers. Only Julie wins for the most loads – TEN every Monday! Jennifer seems to do the least laundry, possibly because her husband’s work requires him to use a dry cleaner for his shirts. That led us to the joys of ironing.

“Ironing?” Julie said. “Who irons? I only buy permanent press shirts that don’t need ironing. And I especially love it when the boy’s white Sunday shirts come with stain guard. In fact, my six-year-old didn’t even know the name for an iron. In trying to describe it to me one day he said, ‘… you know, the thing that gets really hot and then you smash clothes with it.’”

We all laughed. I laughed until I snorted. A really big snort. The waitress even heard it.

I basked in the moment. I have a friend whose children don’t even know the name for an iron. No wonder we’re friends! Jennifer grew so tired of hearing her kids complain about planned family activities that she cancelled the family bike ride and had them clean the house instead. That’s my kind of mother! Mindi’s first calling in the Relief Society was as her ward’s Relief Society President. What a woman!

All too soon our plates were picked over, and we paid our checks. We lingered and laughed until the realities of kids coming home from school and neighbors tending nap-deprived children broke up our outing.

Jennifer summed up the necessity of our lunchtime get-togethers. “It’s so good to get together with you women. I love to laugh with other adults and feel normal, for so often I walk away from my kids and wonder if I am off my rocker.”

Enduring Health Problems . . .

I’m getting started. Today is the day I start writing my book on adversity. I’ve thought about it for a long time, but now is the time to quit thinking and start writing. Wait. That’s not quite what I meant. I’ll be thinking a lot as I write. It’s just that thinking won’t be the only activity associated with my book on adversity. I’ll be writing as well.

Apparently a prerequisite for writing about adversity is living with it. Perhaps that’s the reason my health has been on-again off-again lately – to help get me in the proper emotional frame of mind. Actually, that’s not what I really believe.

I believe that health problems are part of our mortal lives. They’re not a blessing or a curse from God, but rather a by-product of having bodies of flesh and blood. God, in his omnipotence, can cure all diseases of the mind and body, but most of the time He doesn’t. They’re part of our mortal testing, part of what we agreed to endure as part of our decision to follow the Son’s plan and come to earth.

Some people handle health problems (adversity) better than others. When I’m having poor health days I often throw myself a Poopy Health Pity Party. No one else ever shows up. Even my family avoids joining in my wallowing. Usually it’s just me moping on the couch or sleeping away the afternoon.

Last night while watching TV with my husband, I became the reality commentator for the commercials. I followed an ad that combined Wendy’s fast-food restaurant with the Utah Jazz basketball team with, “That’s right folks, come watch the Jazz sweat and play while you sit on your duffs and clog your arteries. Maybe even raise your cholesterol.” Another advertisement was for the Utah Blaze – an indoor arena football team. I talked over their promo with, “This sport is made for all you men who can’t stand staying at home with your family. Come watch another sport you never play with your kids and spend even more money and time on something that doesn’t really matter.”

After a few more tart-minded comments my husband said, “You’re not feeling well, are you?”

How did you know?

I know that no one handles health problems perfectly, but my neighbor, Wanda, sure seems to. I look up to her as a terrific example of how to endure adversity with grace and dignity. I came across a poem last week that reminded me of her.

On His Blindness

When I consider how much my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide;
“Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?”
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts. Who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed,
And post o’er the land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait.”
-- John Milton

Wanda has expressed frustration at not being able to do more, serve more. And yet she regularly attends church with a smile on her face and twinkle in her eye despite on-going pain and illness. As an outsider looking in, it seems to me that her best service is doing exactly what the above poem mentions – bearing her mild yoke, standing (in her case, sitting) and waiting.

What your purse says about your "purse-onality"

I found this link today and loved it.

What does your purse say about you? Find out by clicking on this link:

Purse-onality

Personally, I'm a mix between the Tiny Toter and the Serial Monogamist. I'd love to know what you tote around.

Have a great weekend!
-- Christie

Latest and Greatest Dieting Techniques

Hubby and I started a “biggest loser” contest on Monday. So far so good.

I may not win, but I’m having lots of fun! On my birthday Hubby was vacillating between two dishes at the restaurant. I encouraged him to get the 3-cheese fettuccini alfredo . . . and he did! (It had approximately 16 W.W. points per cup – 800+ calories. And he thought I was just guiding him in his ordering so that I could sample his plate. Ha! I didn’t have a bit.)

Then yesterday I made chocolate chip cookies for the student council that Loula Belle is on. I did not have one lick, snitch or bite of dough during their baking, and only ate ½ a cookie much later in the afternoon. Even though they were still available this morning, I resisted. (I think Hubby has had at least six cookies.)

Sure, men may have an advantage when it comes to weight loss because of their muscle mass, but I’m finding ways around that . . . SABOTAGE!

In other weight loss news, I’ve taken to wearing a loose rubber band on my left wrist. When I’m about to eat a treat or goodie – something that my mouth likes but that’s hurtful to my weightloss efforts – I give the rubber band a couple really good snaps against the inside of my wrist. OUCH!

It’s a very physical way to remind myself that eating junk really can be painful for my body.

The consequences of eating too many sweets could . . .

Lead to diabetes – a disease that already runs on both sides of my family.

Contribute to heart disease – another health problem that plagues my mother’s side of the family.

Cause even more pain in my already touchy weight-bearing joints.

Elevate my cholesterol. And after I’ve finally been able to get it into the healthy range – after 14 years of being a bit above recommended levels.

Hit me in the pocketbook. I’ve loved not having to buy clothes from the plus-size section anymore. Plus, smaller clothing sizes usually cost a bit less. Not to mention that if I gain much more weight I’ll have to buy an entire wardrobe of bigger clothes. (Note: This would also cause pain and suffering for my family as I’d be extra grumpy every time I thought about my growing thighs.)

So there you have it. I’m hoping my new rubber band technique snaps me back to the reality of my choices. I’ll let you know.