FunnyBlog

A Mom Heart, Her Pets, and Her Hero

Hey everybody.

We aren’t necessarily moving.
Sorry for the scare.
It’s just that LG is looking for a new job,
and that could bring a new residence.
Let’s face it,
the economy sucks.
And you have to go where the work is.
Today one of LG’s cousins said they were looking for a dog.
My mother in law so kindly offered up ours.
She knows I have been thinking about finding her a new home.
I have been stressed about finding a new place for her to live,
in case we have to move.
You know, I do that stress thing from time to time.
Why?
Because I am a mom.
That’s why.
And I have a mom heart.
I can’t help it.
And I want to make sure that all of my kids (and pets) are taken care of.
I take no child left behind to an all new level. It’s called no living thing left behind.
So, this cousin, who would provide Olive (our dog) with a wonderful home,
offered to take her on a trial basis.
My in-laws were pulling out of the drive-way,
and it was all up to me,
as to whether or not Olive was going to go along.
At least that is what LG said.
I started loving on the dog,
and I couldn’t keep the tears away.
My 12 year old Alice
who lost her best friend Major (a German Shepherd)
to the vet’s needle,
seemed to show her true self.
She screamed,
“Please don’t make me do this.”
It was decided to postpone the decision for now.
Relief washed over me,
and the 12 year old Alice
thanked me incessantly.
Once a mom decides to care for something as her own,
nobody should try to come between them.
Unless they want to watch the mom cry
for any amount of time.
The funny thing is that I have complained about this dog.
I have constantly complained.
I’m the only ones who feeds her.
Or takes her on walks.
I have to bathe her.
And cut her nails.
And get up with her in the night.
And I have to run after her when someone lets her out,
and she can run about 80 miles an hour.
Seriously.
From the get-go I took the majority of the responsibility for cleaning up her messes.
And it took about 6 months and ripped out carpet to properly house-train her.
But gosh danget…she is MY dog.
And I am not giving her away.
Because I promised to take care of her.
No matter what personal sacrifice I have to make.
And I love her.
And she loves me.
And my mom heart can’t handle abandoning her.
And just writing the word abandon makes me want to throw up.
A mother can never abandon her children or her dogs.
She will throw herself in front of the train if she has to.
And her reward at this very moment is a dog sprawled out on the rug looking up at her with loyal eyes and her cat sitting next to her arm that rests on the desk while typing.
And on lots of days, that is more than her kids ever offer her for all of her sacrifice.
So, after my in-laws drove away,
LG says to me,
“Alice, I just made an important decision. If we do have to move, we are just gonna have to find a place that will let us have the dog and the cat.”
“Why do you say that?” I question.
“You know why.”
I wrapped my arms around him and started to bawl.
I love that man.

I heart Tennessee.

We have lived in Tennessee for 7 & 1/2 years.
I will admit, for this sheltered Western girl,
it took some serious getting used to.
I have blogged about some cultural differences in the past.
I have also blogged about some of the finest parts of the State.
I have laughed about the language barrier.
But, now as I face the possibility of leaving the state,
I can’t stop crying.
Knoxville Tennessee has become more of a home
than any other home I have had.
Our little stone cottage
as humble as it may be,
is the place where I’ve
grown into my own skin.
It’s the place where
LG finally finished college.
It’s the place where
our 4th child was born.
It’s the place where
so many memories were made.
Good and bad.
And isn’t it funny how the only
difference between a good and bad memory
is time?
What’s really crazy to me
is that even the things I hate about Tennessee
have become endearing overnight,
as I’ve faced the possibility of leaving.
And even the bad memories
have become some of my favorite
when I think of leaving the place
called home.
And every small thing
is remembered as a big miracle.
I think it kind of fitting that when I got here
I couldn’t stop crying for about a year.
Because if I ever have to leave,
I am sure that will be about the same amount of time
it will take me to overcome my
home sicknesses.
I am so grateful I have blogged
about so many of my favorites.
(not affiliated in any way –
really, they are both just
showcased in the same post.)
(I am glad that the calling
of activities director
has been retired
because I never wanted that one again.)
(I don’t think I will ever
get out of the habit of checking it
frequently.)
Our yard.
the good and bad.
And last but certainly not least
(I consider it an honor and privilege.)
We have come far
from the days
we were white trash.
And thanks
to Tennessee,
We now embrace ourselves.
Even the parts
that in the rest of the country,
we might be expected to hide.
If we end up having to move,
I hope the rest of the country
is ready for some Southern living.
Because we never plan to wash a car again.
And we have learned the art
of lawn ornaments.
Surely they can put up with our bad habits,
once they taste my
Southern cooking.
More tears.
I am never gonna make a biscuit again.

My Love Affair

I have a confession to make.

I have a new passion in my life.
Or an old passion rekindled.
I figured if I was in survival mode for most of 2010,
I may as well accomplish something.
So for my moments of needed escape,
I gave in to my all alluring friends.
Books.
They are my free entertainment.
They are my free therapy.
They are my free daydreams.
They are my free history lessons.
They are my free writing critics.
They are my free friends.
They are even my free lover on the nights when my hubby and I are too tired to hash it out.
Wow, that sounds gross. K – so not really my free lover, but they are usually way more romantic than my main squeeze, even if I don’t do romance.
My friend Rita just sent me the nicest compliment.
She said my librarians said that I am one of their favorite patrons.
I think that may be the best compliment I’ve had in a long time.
Because it means that they know that I love to read.
But it also means that they don’t think that
I am all that bad of a parent
even when I have had many melt down moments
with my children while perusing the shelves with a toddler in tow.
Well, I was proud of myself because in 2010, I read 41 books.
That is 3+ per month.
My goal in 2011 is to do 48.
One book a week.
I will do it.

(Oh, and yes, I just came back to fix these numbers
because after the initial publish I realized that
there aren’t 48 weeks in a year,
but I can’t remember how many weeks there really are…52?
I am laughing at myself so hard right now.
Math was never my thing.
I’m an English kind of gal.
And the goal is staying at 48
because I am giving myself
however many other weeks there are in a year OFF.
Geez louise. I’m a mess.)
Just as soon as I get past reading The Scarlett Letter.
It is taking forever because the Old English is hard
and I don’t know all the vocabulary words.
Oh to have that kind of eloquence.
So, I know you are dying to hear what I read.
Since I quit writing book reviews.
(My other goal of the year is to let go of guilt – so get over it.)
Here it goes: (in no particular order)
1The Best Christmas Pageant Ever by Barbara Robinson (I read every Christmas)
2The Help by Kathryn Stockett
3The Book Theif by Markus Zusak
4The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
5Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins
6The Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins
7He Did Deliever Me From Bondage by Colleen C. Harrison
8Ford County by John Gresham
9Still Alice by Lisa Genova
10Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet by Jamie Ford
11Leaning into The Curves by Nancy Anderson
12These Is My Words by Nancy Turner
13Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier
14A Funny Thing Happened on My Way to the Future by Michael J Fox
15The Maze Runner by James Daschner
16Afternoons with Emily by Rose MacMurray
17The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan
18The Sea of Monsters by Rick Riordan
19The Titans Curse by Rick Riordan
20The Battle of the Labyrinth by Rick Riordan
21The Last Olympian by Rick Riordan
22The Last Talk with Lola Faye by Thomas H Cooke
23Uglies by Scott Westerfield
24Pretties by Scott Westerfield
25Specials by Scott Westerfield
26Extra by Scott Weseterfield
27Cars from a Marriage by Debra Galant
28The Walk by Richard Paul Evans
29The Past by Jodi Picoult
30To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee
31Boundaries by John Townsend
32Driven to Distraction by Edward Hallowell
33Financial Peace by Dave Ramsey
34Where Men Win Glory by Jon Krakaner
35Defensive Tactics by Steve Westover
36The Seeker by Ann Gabhart
37Behind Ever Good Man by John Bytheway
38AA – The Big Book
39The Peacegiver by James Ferrell
40The LDS Guide to Addiction Recovery
41Motherhood: the 2nd Oldest Proffession by Erma Bombeck
I heart books and reading and writing and all things literature.
It is my dream to write a really good novel someday.
I came up with a great idea while reading this year.
It’s a mixture of survival and future like Hunger Games
but with a cowboy indian flare like These Is My Words.
Those were two of my favorite books this year.
As a mother of 4, I find my 2010 reading accomplishments congratulatory.
If I could just include in my numbers all the children’s books I’ve read this year.
I am sure I read Brown Bear at least 100 times.

The Snow Blues
After a month of almost consecutive snow days and Winter Break,
this mom is officially in Cabin Fever mode.
I even pulled out my old gowns as a new point of interest.

I have been in a foul mood.
I am not sure quite why.
It’s a combination of things, I am sure.
The lack of sunshine.
My house being at 60 degrees to conserve cash.
The cooking three meals a day,
EVERY day.
O.k. I’ll be honest:
no breakfast
just lunch dinner and the 4th meal.
The daily routine of
Wizards of Waverly Place, Hannah Montana, and Cake Boss
should be envious.
(And just for the rest of you moms who are trying to survive
with a Netflix membership
because the remote
to the digital converter went missing ages ago
and you don’t have any real T.V.
the last of those three shows is the winner of
Best Entertaining TV)
And there’s nothing like a really long
run-on sentence to express the true sentiment
of my last month.
I’ve been dreaming of going to Carlos’ Bakery
for a warm lobster tail or crumb cake.
Of course, in my dreams,
I am decked out fashionably
with my hair done, make-up on, and nails brightly painted.
I guess if my mind really had some imagination
I should have been wearing a Miley wig
and some Wizard glasses.
Because that is what the kids would find entertaining.
But, in my dreams,
I am all alone.
Go figure.
And then I sit to blog.
Because maybe it will help me find myself.
Or at least pull me out of this mood.
And I stumble upon this old photo:

and I remember how awesome my kids are.
And how fast they grow.
And then the smell of a poopy diaper
brings me back to my senses.
Just as Caroline goes flying off the bottom of treadmill.
And for the millionth time
with my kids
we laugh.
And I think
it’s too bad
their teachers don’t get to
see them at their best.
And I tell myself
to embrace these snow days.
Because even though the days go by so very slow.
The years fly by.
And, next winter,
if I am lucky
The Tennessee weather God
may bring no snow at all.
But of course,
by then I may be living in South Dakota.
And LG will still be saying,
“Oh, but this is still nothing
compared to the Winter of ’88.”
And I will no longer wonder how my mom survived
with seven children
because I will be longing
for my childhood
in
Southern California.
Where snow days
don’t exist.

By Their Fruits (or Gifts) Ye Shall Know Him

For the past year, I have prayed like never before. It has been the hardest year of my life.

Since I was 20, I have felt very secure in my choice of religion, but during the past year I have found myself questioning. I guess most people would if given my circumstances. I felt faithless and I have been ashamed of myself.

Nonetheless, I have persevered in prayer. I have remained obedient, even when I felt like my prayer wasn’t being answered. I kept asking God to reaffirm my faith. I love God with all my heart and I would never want to dishonor Him by following an untrue path. But, for months I felt like He wouldn’t answer my prayer. I wasn’t sure why.

The other night Sophia kept ringing a jingle bell and we asked her to stop because she was driving us crazy. She said ever so nonchalantly while ringing the bell to her own ear instead of ours, “What? I don’t hear anything. Remember, we don’t believe in Santa. This should not be annoying you.” Thank you Polar Express.

Well, lately, I have felt like a non-believer. No matter how much I wanted to hear the bell jingle, it just wasn’t working. Others will say that it’s not true because I have always believed, but really, I wasn’t hearing what I felt like I should be.

Well, tonight I wouldn’t be more convinced of an answer to prayer if God himself arrived on my doorstep.

It has been said that God does his mighty works through other people.
It has also been said that “by their fruits, ye shall know them.”

Well, this Christmas, the works have come. And they keep coming. I can’t make them stop.

We have had so many anonymous gifts left at our door, that I have completely lost track. We have also had friends who have tried to pretend that their kids just wanted to get our kids something for Christmas. We have had other friends bring stockings fully stuffed for every one of our children. Every gift has been equally thoughtful and equally appreciated. It has been totally humbling, yet wondrous to behold.

The climax of the giving came the other night when while one friend was making a delivery, another friend doorbell ditched with more gifts and a gift-card.

Tonight, was the clincher for me. Someone left us a bag of multiple gift cards and some treats. They left us $40 in Chuck E Cheese bucks, a $50 movie card, and $50 to our favorite local used book store. My kids were going absolutely nuts. It’s been a hard year for them too, and this was just too much at once. It was like Christmas wasn’t even big enough to contain their excitement.

I had to walk back out to the van to cry. I didn’t want my family to see me lose it.
And lose it, I did. I poured my heart out to God and thanked Him with all my might.

I thanked Him for His love, and for watching over us. I thanked Him to be surrounded by such wonderful friends. And I mostly thanked Him for finally giving me my answer.
If my church wasn’t true, why would the people I surround myself with have such wonderful works?

Now, I also know that I have some wonderful Non-Mormon friends who may have been part of this Gold Christmas miracle, and for them I am also grateful. But, tonight, while I read the card with the aforementioned gift, I knew God was telling me that He has let me struggle, so that He could show forth His power, which lies in the people’s hearts…His love is a living force for good.

And let me tell you something. That love and power is described as light because there is no other way to describe it. It’s warm. It’s invigorating. It’s mighty. It’s the giver of life. It’s all-encompassing. The only way to receive it, is to let it consume you.

And after the crappiest year ever, and the months and months of prayers of mighty supplication, I all of the sudden found myself surrounded by the light. In fact, I was the light. In every direction I looked, all I could see was good. All I could see was love. And all I could see was the face of God. With a smile. It seemed to say, “I’m so proud of you for sticking in there Alice. Now go to Chuck E Cheese and enjoy some downtime.”

Oh, and, “Be still and know that I am God.”

What a year.
Posted by Picasa

So, here is your Christmas card.
If you are a diehard,
you can print us out and put us up on your wall
so you can prove to all incomers
that you really do have friends.

This year was the kind
that we didn’t have a professional photo.
We also didn’t want to spend for the
cost of printing and mailing.

To put it lightly,
our family has been tried tremendously.
To put it honestly,
we have walked through hell
and we are hoping that we are on our way back.

It was the kind of year that made me grateful
for a simple family snapshot.
Even if it was
as an afterthought,
and we ended up with a crappy backdrop,
and the sun was in our eyes.

You see
we were on our way to church,
together.

And together
is
huge.
It’s more than anyone can ask for.

This morning
I realized that I wanted a living record
of the end of this year,
as I looked at my daughters
and the love of my life.
We were all in the colors,
black, white, and red.

And I saw that as a great representation
of a very hard year.

We are all
still trying to do the right things.
Together.
And that pretty much sums it up.
God has held us together
in the palm of His hand.

And I am extremely
humbled
and
grateful.
And happy.

I look forward in faith.
Even if the sun has been blinding.
And what better Christmas message is there?

My daughters would not be any more beautiful
with a professional photo to prove it.
My marriage would not be as strong
without the trials and intense work.
My friends would not have reached out to us
in such love
without our pain.
Our gratitude for loving parents
would not be as deep
without the struggle.
And our testimony of a loving God
would not be as intimate.

I think we have every reason
to
rejoice.

Jesus Christ makes all things possible.
He is love and light.
He will blind you
if that is what it takes
to heal you,
to love you,
and
to know you.

And when you get through it,
you will be grateful for a sun so bright.
Even if it hurt temporarily.

Merry Christmas to you.
Especially if the sun is blinding your eyes.

Happy Birthday Jesus Christ

Thanks to my bloggy friend Sheila for this share.
It brought tears to my eyes and greater love to my heart.
There is something special about
this child’s narration to the greatest story of all mankind.

I love MY Jesus.
He is all mine.
And He is yours.
He is the Savior of all mankind.
Whether they accept it individually or not.

He condescended from the realms on high,
to be born in a stable.
And this year,
His lowly beginnings
have been a fervant reminder
that God wants me to know
that things don’t matter.

Only one thing is needful,
and that is Jesus Christ.
He is the way, the truth, and the life.

And I love the time of year when
people treat each other with greater kindness.
It’s the kind of birthday present we all can enjoy.
And that is so like Jesus.
He never asks something of us
that won’t make us happier.

Christmas Pageants

Every Christmas I try to read
with my children.
It is one of my all time favorite books.
Of course it consists of two of my most favorite things:
laughter and the Savior of the world.
I have the book that my Aunt Shirley
gifted to my family one year.
I treasure it.
My Aunt Shirley loves literature like I do.
I want to grow up to be like her one day.
She writes better than me.
I am of the opinion that Christmas Pageants
should only be given by children or professionals.
A few years ago they had LG dress up like a wise man
and I just thought it was pure mockery.
Especially since they had him dressed in the costume
that was obviously meant for an African.
He was one big white African King.
Well, anyhow, somebody forwarded me an e-mail
with a funny little Christmas pageant tale.
It showcases WHY exactly children are the ones to give any pageant.
THE CHRISTMAS PAGEANT
My husband and I had been happily
married (most of the time)
for five years
but hadn’t been blessed with a baby.

I decided to do some serious
praying and promised God
that if he would give us a child,
I would be a perfect mother,
love it with all my heart
and raise it with His word
as my guide.

God answered my prayer s
and blessed us with a son.

The next year God blessed us
with another son.

The following year,
He blessed us with
yet another son.

The year after that we
were blessed with a daughter.

My husband thought we’d
been blessed right into poverty.
We now had four children,
and the oldest was only
four years old.

I learned never to ask God
for anything unless I meant it
As a minister once told me,
“If you pray for rain,
make sure you carry an umbrella.”

I began reading a few verses
of the Bible to the children
each day as they lay in their cribs.

I was off to a good start.
God had entrusted me
with four children a nd
I didn’t want to disappoint Him.

I tried to be patient the day
the children smashed
two dozen eggs on
the kitchen floor searching
for baby chicks.

I tried to be understanding…

when they started a hotel for
homeless frogs in the spare bedroom,
although it took me nearly two hours
to catch all twenty-three frogs.

When my daughter poured
ketchup all over herself and
rolled up in a blanket to see
how it felt to be a hot dog,
I tried to see the humor
rather than the mess.

In spite of changing over
twenty-five thousand diapers,
never eating a hot meal
and never sleeping for more
than thirty minutes at a time,
I still thank God daily for my children.

While I couldn’t keep my promise
to be a perfect mother –
I didn’t even come close…
I did keep my promise
to raise them in the Word of God.

I knew I was missing the mark
just a little when I told
my daughter we were going
to church to worship God,
and she wanted to bring
a bar of soap along to
“wash up” Jesus, too.

Something was lost
in the translation when
I explained that
God gave us everlasting life,
and my son thought it was
generous of God to give
us his “last wife.”

My proudest moment came
during the children’s
Christmas pageant.

My daughter was playing Mary,
two of my sons were shepherds
and my youngest son was a wise man.
This was their moment to shine.

My five-year-old shepherd
had practiced his line,
“We found the babe wrapped
in swaddling clothes.”

But he was nervous and said,
“The baby was wrapped
in wrinkled clothes.”

My four-year-old “Mary” said,
“That’s not ‘wrinkled clothes,’ silly.

That’s dirty, rotten clothes.”

A wrestling match broke out
between Mary and the shepherd
and was stopped by an angel,
who bent her halo and lost
her left wing.

I slouched a little lower
in my seat when Mary
dropped the doll representing
Baby Jesus, and it bounced
down the aisle crying,
“Mama-mama.”

Mary grabbed the doll,
wrapped it back up
and held it tightly as
the wise men arrived.

My other son stepped forward
wearing a bathrobe
and a paper crown,
knelt at the manger
and announced,
“We are the three wise men,
and we are bringing gifts
of gold,
common sense
 and fur.”

The congregation
dissolved into laughter,
and the pageant
got a standing ovation.

“I’ve never enjoyed a Christmas
program as much as this one,”
laughed the pastor ,
wiping tears from his eyes

“For the rest of my life,
I’ll never hear the
Christmas story without
thinking of
gold, common sense
and fur.”

“My children are my pride
and my joy and my greatest
blessing,” I said as I dug
through my purse for an aspirin..


Yesterday at church
It was also a heartwarming tale.
which supports my idea of
children being the best actors for a pageant.

I cried as Wally the innkeeper
felt compassion and interceded with
“Wait, you can have my room.”

This made me ponder on what I am willing to give.
Sometimes I don’t even think I am smart enough
to give up my own room;
even when I have promised to give everything.

I will end this Christmas post with
my favorite
Christmas poem.

In the Bleak Midwinter – Christina Rosetti 1872.

In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;

Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.


Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him
Nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away
When He comes to reign:

In the bleak mid-winter
A stable-place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty,
Jesus Christ.


Enough for Him, whom cherubim
Worship night and day,
A breastful of milk
And a mangerful of hay;
Enough for Him, whom angels

Fall down before,
The ox and ass and camel
Which adore.

Angels and archangels
May have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim
Thronged the air,

But only His mother
In her maiden bliss,
Worshiped the Beloved
With a kiss.


What can I give Him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb,
If I were a wise man
I would do my part,
Yet what I can I give Him,
Give my heart.

I hope that I can give Him my heart.
My whole heart.
Every day.
And be like Him.
More selfless.

I know
that
just how I enjoy
unexpected outcomes from
funny Christmas pageants,
He accepts
my best attempts at worship.
No matter how
unorthodox.
Or how
far from
perfection
they are.

Because the imperfect kind
are often the best
and most meaningful.

Better Blogs and Christmas Cheer

I am not in a blogging mood.

I am more occupied with negotiating Christmas with my husband,
who apparently doesn’t want to buy our kids any sort of magical Christmas gift.
Can I say the man is imagination challenged
without spurring on my haters
to call me to repentance?
Do you know that the father of my children
let Santa’s cat out of the bag
three years ago?
Oh, Yes he did!!!
Our kids were 8,5, and 4.
And they now think the world of their daddy.
Because he is Santa and the tooth fairy.
But I am still struggling to forgive.
Because I believe in magic.
And Harry Potter.
But because of all the things I have been learning lately,
I will not Christmas shop until LG and I are on the same page.
Because that is what Dave Ramsey says.
And that is what the Bible says.
And who can argue with the Bible or Dave Ramsey?
And I have to say after reading the Bible just now
and hearing God’s admonition to reverence my husband,
I am feeling guilty about this whole post.
I guess I will have to repent.
Once I do I am sure that
our marriage will prevail.
One challenge at a time.
Even if everything seems to be a challenge lately.
I think Christmas should not be a challenge.
Who knew two people could be married
for 13 years
and never be on the same page?
This year if anything,
we will be on the same page.
And both of us will be happy with what is under the tree.
Even if it is only due to the generosity of others.
And hours of negotiation.
I’ve said it a million times before
but
2011
is gonna be our year.
Next Christmas will bring no negotiation.
And that will be LG’s best gift to me.
The fact that he cared enough to negotiate this one.
If that makes any sense.
From now on,
we will hopefully be on the same Christmas page.
Is that just wishful thinking?
The older I get, the more I think
that life is really just one negotiation after another.
T’was the night before Christmas
and all through our house,
no raised voice was heard,
because we’re espoused.
We negotiated until our hearts
were content.
And now the wife will not overspend
and have need to repent.
But, I will have to repent about the reverencing the man.
How can I reverence Santa Claus?
Huh? Huh?
He’s fictional.
I hope your kids don’t read this blog.
Or maybe they should.
Because then my husband will have some more
little people to reverence him.
He needs that.
Since he isn’t getting it from me.
Well anyhow.
I wanted to share some better blogs.
For my loyal readers
who I have just left totally confused.
But before I do.
Really, how do you married people
agree about Christmas?
Just curious.
Did you negotiate year 1
and never argue again?
Or do you still fight about it?
I love my husband.
A lot.
I want to be on the same page.
Even if his page is to pay the bills
and give the kids as little as possible.
And mine is to make Santa magical.
There has to be a good medium.
Do you ever even think about these things?
Are all other married couples like us.
I can remember my parents always fighting over Christmas.
Mom wanted to make it magical
and dad didn’t want to go into debt.
I wonder if this is the same story in every household?
So, on with the real fun.
My friends all have it figured out.
They don’t blog about their private business,
leaving their blogs actually entertaining.
Unlike mine.
There is good reason why I am not blogging right now.
Check out Cally’s homemade gift tags.
And Lori’s movie making skills.
And Erika’s honesty.
Jeremy’s love for an awesome father, who just passed on,
and made me have a greater desire not to fight over stupid stuff.
Gina’s photography.
Jennifer’s yummy food.
Rachel’s consistent gratitude, maturity, and resilience in the midst of battling childhood cancer.
There are definitely a lot better blogs out there.
But at least many of them belong to my friends.
I am off to make a spreadsheet for my husband.
Maybe it will help if I speak his language.

Lesson With a Flair

Abigail has been making dinner on Sunday nights.

I got really stressed about her learning to cook before she goes to college.
I am not sure why since that is at least 7 years away,
but it’s all good since it gets me out of dinner duty on Sunday.
Abigail loves to search the cookbooks for something.
She is completely opposite from me.
I like to cook the same thing over and over again
so I don’t have to refer to a recipe.
Anyway, last Sunday, Abigail found a recipe for
Chicken Catchatore. Or however you spell that.
I have never made it before, how would I know.
We decided to tweak the recipe a bit
because we don’t shop on Sunday
and we didn’t have all the required ingredients.
However we did have ginger.
Abigail wanted to add it.
LG kept saying to add more.
I told him that ginger is really strong
but he wanted more.
We ended up chopping and sauteeing
what Abigail calls
a whole leg of ginger.
About an eighth of a cup.
We fried it up with garlic and onion
and the diced tomatoes
and added some spinach
and then added the leftover Thanksgiving turkey.
And Abigail declared proudly to her sisters
that we would be eating
turkey catchatore with a flair.
I said, “One big flair of ginger,”
as I secretly added some brown sugar and milk
to lighten up the overwhelming ginger.
Abigail and Bella then got into it
about what kind of noodles were being served.
Abigail assured Bella that they were linguine.
Bella argued back, like she had some kind of authority in the matter
knowing full well that Abigail was
the one to fetch the noodles from the box.
Before I knew it, Abigail and Bella were having it out
about noodles.
I then hollered,
“Fine, you are both right
the noodles are NOT linguine,
from now on in our house
they will be called:
‘Love one Another, who gives a crap what kind of noodles they are’ “.
End of story.
As we ate Bella says,
“So we are having
Turkey Ginger Catchatore over ‘Love One Another, who gives a crap kind of noodles they are.”
And Sophia in typical Sophia fashion.
Always with perfect timing
and always keeping the peace
says “with a flair.”
So from now on, our noodles will remain nameless
(don’t they all taste the same anyway)
and anything that has ginger in it
will be with a flair.
And I call that one productive Sabbath.