Holiday Fun

No, I have not fallen from the face of the earth. It's just Christmas time! Here's what we've been doing for the last month:

Brandon and Lindsey build the tree

We decorated our house the day after Thanksgiving—a tradition in our family. So everyone spent days making paper snowflakes to hang up; the house was strewn with white confetti for weeks.

making paper snowflakes

And, of course, the tree and the nativity sets and our North Pole sign all came out too. It looked great!

Trim up the tree with Christmas stuff. Like bingle balls, and whofoo fluff.

The next project we took on was our gingerbread house. This is an all-day project, and I really debated not making one this year. But it is a new Christmas tradition for us—this is the third year now that we've built a gingerbread house.

The kids love it because they get to eat lots of candy, and we all spend time together. I do most of the work—all the baking and construction, as well as piping on the frosting glue so the kids can stick their candies in place.

But as they get older and more capable, that will change. (Well, Michael is older and more capable, but he's at school for a lot of the worky part. Maybe we should make it a tradition to do this on a Saturday.)

the gingerbread house is finished!
the gingerbread house one week later

Let's see . . . On Friday the 19th we had our first really big snow of the year; it came almost to my knees in only a couple of hours (I'm kind of short, but that's still a lot of snow). This snow was deep and powdery and slick—you could hardly stand up on it. Let me clarify: If you stand and walk in the deep snow, you'll be pretty safe, but soaked through. But if you're shovelling and have to stand on snow that has packed—even a little—you are in great danger of falling on your butt. Bruce, Brandon and Ryan all fell down more than once. I almost fell several times, but I'm pretty good at getting my balance back before I actually hit the pavement. (Bruce says I'm so graceful at almost falling that look like a ballerina pretending to fall down—whatever!)

Brandon and Bruce shovel the driveway

The roads were a complete mess, and I was a mess just thinking of driving the van in this weather. It has good brakes and good tires, but it's so heavy that it still wants to slide. I can get around on the slippery, snowy, slushy roads, but I don't like to. Fortunately Bruce was around, and he did the driving that afternoon. And, happily for Bruce and me, Brandon really likes shovelling snow (go figure!); so he cleaned up the driveway as best he could. Our house is north-facing, so keeping the snow off of our drive is not easy—it's always in the shade. But all's well. We had a white Christmas, with a fire in the fireplace, hot cocoa and all that other good stuff.

On Sunday, the 21st, we went to my cousin Wendy's house for a family & friends/dinner/singing get-together. Her little 80-something neighbor lady master-minded the party and Wendy was happy to host. There were about 40 people there and we played musical chairs, and then read stories and sang songs. Everyone had some type of musical instrument, from a keyboard to guitars to maracas. It was very noisy, but pretty fun.

Then on Monday (the 22nd) we went to my mom's for a birthday party for my oldest brother, Peter. While we were there Bruce and I engaged in a little petty theft so that I could complete the BIG Christmas project I was working on. But I repented later and returned the stolen goods.

Tuesday night we dipped chocolates. We've been doing this for a few years now too. Every year we make the ugliest (although pretty darn tasty) chocolates you've ever seen. After all the time spent making them (and licking up melted chocolate as you go) I almost can't stomach the actual chocolates when they're done. They taste better a couple days later, when you're not so chocolated out—even if they are lumpy and crooked. Every year I hope they'll turn out nicer, and when they don't I vow that I won't spend the time or money to do it again. But I always do have to try one more time. This year we used some candy molds to help out, but it didn't really help much.

I intended to make the girls some Christmas dresses; I even bought the fabric. But that was a silly idea since I started sooooo late. I may get them done this week, though.

In-between all the other stuff, I was working a Christmas present for my siblings and parents. I took all the old photos I could get my hands on, scanned them, corrected color (when necessary) and then burned them all onto cd's for everyone. I had a box of pictures here that Mom lent me a few months ago, but she didn't want to give up any more. I kept asking her—but not telling her why I wanted them—and she had all these good reasons that I couldn't have them. Finally at Peter's birthday party I managed to get her out of the way and Bruce sneaked a box into the van. I spent most of that evening and the next morning working on that box of pictures. Then I was able to sneak it back into her house in the evening, while she was gone from home. I spent hours on the photo project, and still didn't get all of the pictures she has; but everyone really liked their cd's. And now I think I'll have an easier time getting the rest of the pictures from Mom so I can make volume 2.

And of course we were shopping clear up until the very last minute. It was insane going out on Christmas Eve day, but we needed a few last items and some groceries. Next year we definitely have to plan better than that! We visited a few families in the evening, and before bedtime we read the Christmas story from Luke 2 and watched a video of the Christmas story. We sent the kids to bed with instructions to absolutely NOT get us up before 6 a.m. Then Bruce and I stayed up until 1:30 doing the secret stuff. (Next year we definitely need to plan better!!)

When Brandon and Ryan heard Bruce and me quiet down, they started to head out of their room to check things out. But we were still up and sent them back to bed. I fell asleep pretty quickly (around 2 a.m.), but those two boys (who room next to us) were up every 30 minutes or so, so it was a light sleep. At 5:52 a.m. I heard the kids whispering and milling around. They came up the hallway to our bedroom door about once every minute until 5:59. And then . . . Jason stood in the kitchen, facing our bedroom door, and played reveille on his trumpet! He took a lot of flack for it that day, but really it was pretty funny.

We had a nice Christmas Day. Unfortunately, we didn't take any pictures. We've discovered over the years that every time we try to take a great picture, one of the kids gets right in the way so we don't capture what we wanted to. And, truthfully, we forgot to get the camera when we went to open presents. But everyone has been really happy with their gifts, and the kids have enjoyed playing together all week.

It snowed a lot on Christmas morning, but we braved the weather and the roads and went to see Bruce's family. My mom had called me and said not to drive in the snow to go to her house that day. So we went to see her the next day when, unfortunately, the roads were more slippery than they were on Christmas Day. But it was nice to break up the visiting into two sessions, and not be running around quite as much on Christmas.

white Christmas

And now, this week we are cleaning house and preparing to get the decorations down before New Year's Eve. My bedroom was the biggest mess, having been the staging room for all the Christmas happiness. There was no clear surface in there—on the furniture or the floor; the bed didn't even get made six days out of seven. I didn't take a "before" picture of my room—you really wouldn't want to see that. But now that it's all clean, I love my bedroom!

my lovely room

All in all, we have had a busy and very happy holiday. And I hope you all have, too. And here's wishing you a HAPPY NEW YEAR!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Deep Answers

Thanks for your comments, everyone. You all gave some great answers. I've been thinking about my post as well. :-)

I have concluded that we do try our best every day. I have (frequently) had days when my best was to feed my family and make sure the dishes were clean that day. Period. I feel bad on those days because I know there's more that needs to be done. But for physical or emotional reasons, that is all I am capable of at that time. This is part of our mortality (our imperfections) and I know God understands this, and that if we truly strive to do better each day, then that's all we can do.

But what about problem-solving? Let's say (and this is not a true-life case) that I go to the bank and take out $100 to pay a bill that's due by the end of the week. For some reason I have to go home first, and then . . . you know how things go at home. I don't make it in time to pay the bill today. I will go tomorrow. So I leave the $100 on my dresser (which I would not do in real-life). Well, the next time I look for the money, the $100 is missing. I interrogate all my kids and my husband, but they all claim perfect innocence. (You had $100?!) Obviously this isn't ALL I can do to solve this problem.

So I clean out my purse; then I clean my dresser, look in the drawers, clean and organize the drawers, look behind and under the dresser (clean-up there too). No luck. I retrace my steps from the time I got home with the money yesterday—nothing. So now I look in the pockets of the clothes I was wearing yesterday. Then I make my bed and clean up my whole room. Still nothing. Have I done all I can?

Well, there's a good possibility that a child did something with the money, but was afraid to 'fess up. So now I ransack their rooms, cleaning as I go. After a few days I have torn apart and rebuilt the entire house, and the car too. I am praying the whole time, because I need to pay that bill. Have I now done everything I could do?

Well, I remember a rather large-ish hole in my living room wall (well, this part is true—we have a 3-inch hole in one of our walls). I suppose it is possible—although not likely—that a child could have shoved the money into that hole. I could tear away that entire section of wall to see if the money is in there. I consider this; I am capable of doing it, and repairing it again, too. But my feeling is, that it wouldn't really help. It's not likely the money is in there; it would be a lot of work, it would make a huge mess; so that's not an entirely logical solution to the problem. In addition, my first gut-feeling was not to do it.

So, NOW, do I pray and say "I have done everything I can do," or should I tear into the wall first? Have I really done everything, or am I just rationalizing? I have to say that I believe my first feelings (not to tear apart the wall) are probably correct. But sometimes I wonder.

As for asking for help, I know we need to. There are plenty of times that I know exactly what my kids want from me, but I wait for them to ask me first. Not because I am mean, but because sometimes they need to ask. I think there is something for us to gain by asking. And the scriptures tell us over and over again to ask God for what we want or need.

There was a family in our ward a while ago whose three-year-old was dying. He had so much internal bleeding (from an illness) that one evening his whole diaper was soaked in blood. His father gave him a blessing that he would live long enough to make it to the hospital. These parents and the baby's doctors had been treating the illness for several weeks; the parents had been praying for God's will to be done and that they could accept it. Everyone thought he would die. But that night, at the hospital, the mother had the thought that it was OK for her to ask for what she wanted. She wanted to keep her baby boy; she prayed for him to get well and live so she could keep him and raise him. He did heal and is completely cured; that was six years ago.

I believe there are times when God will just fill in the rest because we need Him to. But I also believe there are times we need to ask for His help. I guess the real answer is to keep trying, AND to keep asking. And to believe that the help, the solutions, whatever we need, will come. And to keep believing. That is the best we can do.

Another Deep Question

I've been reading and hearing a lot lately (and have learned my whole life) that if you've done your very best, then Jesus Christ will make up the difference. But how do you know if you've really done all that you can—your very best?

When I was 16 I took a ballet class at the University of Utah—my dad would drive me to the class, stay and watch. It was an adult class and I was the youngest one in it; and probably the best. I felt like I worked in that class—I paid attention, did the exercises right, consciously worked at all the things I knew I should be doing; I thought I was doing my best.

There was a young man in the class (probably in his mid-20's) who was fairly good-looking, and whom I thought was a good dancer. I may have even had a little crush on him—but mostly because a guy in a ballet class is a rarity, and his being there automatically made him cool in my eyes. (Actually there was another man in that class—he was at least 60 and I didn't have a crush on him.) Well one day, instead of dancing, the younger guy just watched the class; maybe he was sick or something. I was a little nervous that this cute, good-dancer guy would be watching my class. Something interesting happened: Even though I didn't really feel like I was working harder, my teacher commented over and over about how well I was doing that night. She even told me not to overdo it and wear myself out; she wondered out loud why I was doing so much better—-was it because my dad was watching the class? I thought that was kind of funny; my dad always watched the class. And I didn't feel like I was doing more than I had any other night (although I realized it after the class, when I could feel a little more burn and tremor in my muscles than usual).

Now, I had thought that I was doing my very best all along, every time I went to class. But I guess on that night I gave just a little extra push—some more polish to my performance—and I outdid myself. So while I was doing very well before, on that night I really did do my very best.

So my question is this: How can you ever know if you are really doing your absolute, very best? Can you always push just a little more? How do you know that you've really done all you can do, and so now it's OK to say, "Fill in the rest, please?"

So, I was thinking . . .

. . . that here I am, asking how to get my kids to focus less on gifts and more on what Christmas is really all about, while at the same time I am making a mile-long wish-list. Hmmmm.
Is there a problem here?

The Reason for the Season

The Christmas season is upon us. Traditionally, our family puts up all the Christmas decorations on the day after Thanksgiving. I always make extra pies to have on that day, and if we have Thanksgiving here, then we eat turkey sandwiches while we work. Since we had Thanksgiving at Grandma North's house this year, I cooked a small turkey for our family to have on Friday as part of the decorating festivities. I was a little bothered, though, by two of my kids saying that to them Christmas meant a big tree and lots of presents. Yes, I like those things too—I'd have to say that I like them a lot! But I really hope that Christmas means more to my family than that.

Tonight I watched How the Grinch Stole Christmas with my kids. (The Grinch is an appealing villain if there ever was one!) After the show I said to the kids, "The Grinch stole all the Whos presents, all their decorations, and all their food. But the Whos were still happy on Christmas morning. Do you think you would be happy on Christmas with no presents?"

They all said they would still be happy on Christmas even with no presents. So I pressed them further, asking if it would still feel like a holiday—different from other days—without the presents. They said yes, because they would still get to visit with family. Some of the younger ones said we could go to Grandma's and they would get presents there. But I said, "No. What if there were no presents at all?" Most of them said they would be OK with that; some of the older ones said it would be a little disappointing, but it would be all right. Jason said it would be good as long as we still had the special Christmas breakfast. Over all, I think they all agreed Christmas would be good as long as we spent time with our family.

So then I asked if they would rather get a present, or give a present. All but Ryan said they liked to give presents better (but I have long suspected that Gifts are Ryan's Love Language). So I said to him, "You mean you would be happier if you got a present, but no one else got any?" First he said, "Yes," but then he cracked up, laughing, and said, "No. Not really." He explained that that would be unfair and wouldn't really make him feel good.

Tonight we ended up by reading a Christmas story from the Ensign before we had prayers and I sent them to bed. You know, we do talk about Jesus' birth during Christmas time; we have several nativity sets around the house; we read the Christmas story from the Bible, as well as Christmas stories about giving and sharing. And I truly have great kids—I think they really do know what it's all about. But I'd like it to be even better. So, here's a callout for more ideas to help the true meaning of Christmas shine through; and to help my kids focus more on the giving than the getting. Any thoughts?

Giving Thanks

I had intended to post this on Thanksgiving Day, but things got busy and . . . you know. Anyway, this is a story that I've told to some friends and family before.

A few years ago we were in an awful predicament. Business wasn't good and we just never had any money. We couldn't afford gas in our cars; we couldn't buy clothes or shoes for the kids when they needed them. Sometimes we couldn't even afford groceries. Finally, our van broke down; I had to borrow a car every day—usually Melanie's—so I could get my kids to school each day. At first I called her every day to see if I could use her van, but then she just made arrangements for me to drive her to work in the morning, keep her car and then pick her up in the afternoon. Jessica was about two or three, and still in diapers, but I usually couldn't afford to buy them. When the diapers ran out I would work up my nerve and call Melanie—or sometimes my mother-in-law—to see if she could buy diapers for us. I felt so hopeless to always be calling and asking someone to bail me out—again and again and again.

Melanie was always nice, very understanding and never complaining or questioning my need. One day she told me that she had been setting aside $50 every month so that she could help me out. I felt so bad about this! I knew that money didn't flow in free abundance in Melanie's household either. I can't describe how I felt always asking her to save me, and knowing that in her own need she was willing to do so much for me. I would truly go as long as possible before I did ask for help. But that was never really very long.

One day I had to ask her, once again, to buy diapers for Jessica. Even though Melanie was always kind—she never sounded even a little bit frustrated with me—I started out on my own guilt trip anyway. And then something happened. I felt, physically felt, something snap and change inside of me. I suddenly knew that I could no longer feel guilt or sorrow for this; somehow my body and heart and mind were unable to carry that load any more. I had to let it go. And then the only feeling left in me was a tremendous gratitude. I could only be incredibly thankful for the help I received, and for the good things I did have.

It changed things a lot. We were still broke, and without a car. I still had to borrow or beg for so many things that we needed. It was months before we could even start to think of making a turn-around. But things felt better. I was happier; I was better.

Now, a few years later, things are still very rough. I can still get in a funk about my problems. But I really am thankful for what I do have. Big things, and small. So it seems appropriate, at "the end of the Thanksgiving season," to list some the things that I am thankful for:

First of all, I am thankful for my family. Bruce is my best friend and I know he loves me with all of his heart. I am thankful for a good marriage, and for a husband whom I love.

I am thankful for Michael. I love his sense of humor. I love that we can play and tease with each other. I'm thankful for the computer help he gives me when I need it.

I am thankful for Jason. I'm thankful for his spiritual nature, and his love of good music (read, "music that I love too"). I enjoy his sense of humor a lot too.

I am thankful for Lindsey. I am so glad that she is helpful and so kind. I'm thankful for how cheerful she is.

I am thankful for Brandon. I love his creativity, his silly wit, and the humor he brings into our home.

I am thankful for Ryan. I love how bright he is, and that he still likes to give me hugs.

I am thankful for Kaylie. I love to see her dance, and I'm glad she loves music. I love her enthusiasm and persistence.

I am thankful for Rachel. I love to see how much thought she puts into her projects, and I love to see her artistic talent. She is also developing a fun sense of humor.

I am thankful for Jessica. She is my little ray of sunshine; I love her sweetness and how bright she is. I am thankful that she is still snuggly.

I am thankful for Melanie; that she is not just my sister, but my good, good friend.

I am thankful for my family and for Bruce's family.

I am thankful for my home, my car, fall leaves, paper snowflakes, good health and a happy family.

I am thankful for my Heavenly Father and my Savior, Jesus Christ. I have felt their love for me lately. I have felt it through scriptures, through good music, through talks by church leaders. I have felt it in the temple and through prayer.

I hope I can always remember to be truly thankful—and learn to be thankful in all things. And so may we all.

Blessings in Disguise

After about two weeks of sleepless nights I caught a nasty head cold. On top of the sleepless-tired, I became sick-tired as well. My brain quit working altogether. For example:

• I woke up one morning to discover that one of the "nobodies" in my house had turned the thermostat off the previous night—the house was freezing! So I sat there, looking at the thermostat for a good thirty seconds, trying to figure out what the temperature in the house was. I could see the numbers all right, I just couldn't understand what they were telling me.
• Later, I was trying to alter a recipe to make only 2/3 of the recipe. Normally this is very easy for me. But even after taking several minutes to adjust the amounts I couldn't then remember the measurements I'd come up with.
• I would sit and stare at my untied shoes trying to decide what I had to do next.
• I couldn't read music and play it too.

My brain really was not working. (And, no, I was not on drugs—we're out of cold medicine, and how could I actually think to go get some?)

So where is the blessing in all of this? I actually slept. And slept and slept. I fell asleep quickly at night; I slept in clear until 7:00 every morning. I took two or three naps a day; and all of this for about five days straight!

I'm still recovering from the cold—you know, cough and all that. But wow! I feel so much better!

Nights of the Living Dead

It is 3:50 a.m. and I am awake. This is really unfair since I have no infants in the house. But it happens to me a lot, and I am just tired (which is why I haven't had much to say here lately. Just can't think.). I'm sure I must look like a zombie most of the time. Well, my friend says I just look very tired—she says zombies are really ugly. But I kind of feel like a zombie most of the time.

So here I sit at 4:00 in the morning, writing a really dumb post just because I can't sleep. Gotta love that.

Just Wrong!

The other day Jessica and I went window-shopping, just to get out of the house and see some new sights. We looked at jewelry (she kept telling me she wanted to look at jewelry, although she didn't know what "jewelry" was until we actually looked at some), we looked at clothes, we looked at Christmas decorations, we looked at toys. As we walked past the lingerie department Jessica said, in a thoroughly shocked tone, "That's wrong!!"
I turned around to see what she was talking about, and there was a mannequin dressed in a "Santa's helper" bra and panties. When I asked her about it, she said, "Santa Claus wears his own underwear!"

I guess she's right. :-)

Technical Stuff

OK. For all you blind people, I made my font-size bigger. But, if that's still not good enough, Michael says you can increase the size from your end. Just push the "control" button (Ctrl) and scroll up or down with your mouse. And hey! I tried it and it works just swell!

(OK. Now Michael, Mr. Smarty-Pants, is saying that we would know these things if we would just mess around with our computers a little bit sometimes, and usually when you mess around it's not going to break anything . . . and he's still talking . . .)

Thank you, Michael. ;-)

Kaylie

Well since I told a Kaylie story last week, I figured I might as well talk about her some more.

Kaylie was born angry at the ill-treatment she was receiving. You know, each baby has a different cry; Michael's was sad—like we were picking on him, but Kaylie came out saying, "This is no way to bring a baby into the world, and you had better start treating me right!" And she was LOUD. When she was in the nursery—with the door closed, and I was in my room—with the door closed, I could hear her crying. When my mom came to visit us in the hospital she asked where we were; the nurse told her to listen for the crying baby.

On the other hand, our bishop came to visit us soon after Kaylie was born and I heard later (from his wife) that he thought Kaylie was the most beautiful baby he'd ever seen. :-)

the most beautiful baby

What a sweet smile!

Here is one of my favorite Kaylie stories, because it shows her reasoning and her personality so well:

A couple of years ago my kids were at my friend Verlene's house. She had a refrigerator with a water dispenser on the front and so, naturally, the kids had to take full advantage of this novelty and get lots of drinks of water. Well, pretty soon Kaylie sidles on in, looks around and pushes the button, just letting the water run onto the floor—you know, just to see what would happen. Verlene asked her, "Now why did you do that? Would you like it if I came to your house and got water all over the floor?" Kaylie says, "When I am a grown-up I won't tell you where I live!"

pretty, photogenic Kaylie

Kaylie can be feisty, and she lets you know what she thinks. But she is smart, and she is really very sweet most of the time; she likes to make pictures for me and she plays very well with her little sisters. She is a very pretty girl with beautiful, dark brown eyes. She loves to dance, and to play the piano too. She is an excellent reader and her teachers say she behaves very well, and is helpful in school.

A few weeks ago, as I prepared dinner, Kaylie was in the living room busily writing. She didn't show me what she wrote, but Bruce and I found this sweet testimony later:

"I belive Jesus made the world for us.

He made day and night.

He made all the animals.

Jesus made the sea. He made the ocean.

He made the plants to.

The world is a wonderfull place to me.

by Kaylie North"

I love my Kaylie!

Next to Godliness

Today I got my house clean. Really clean. I love a clean house! I mean really—I might be kind of a fanatic about it. When my house is cluttered, or dirty, I am very restless. I guess I can't sit here knowing there's work to be done, but not doing it. On the other hand, I feel utterly blissful when the house is clean. I do wish that others shared those sentiments. (I mean others who live in this house with me.)

Anyway, I did the dishes, cleaned the counters, the table, furniture, dusted, vacuumed, swept and mopped, washed mirrors and toilets, I did everything—even the laundry! But that's not all; I also made significant headway in cleaning my bedroom. That's something! (When my kids clean house, if they don't know what to do with something I say, resignedly, with a sigh, "Put it on my dresser.")

Today I got most of the work done before lunch. But then I got a little slow and lazy (the after-lunch blahs) and didn't finish until just before school got out. And then, oh dread! I had to go get the kids from school. Couldn't they just spend the night there? Just this once?

But they kept it all pretty decent. A few crayons out. A movie. Now we're off to the library. Maybe we can stay out so late that there's no chance to get anything else out before bed time. Imagine waking up to a clean house! Heavenly!

Analogy

What I learned from years of dance:

You work hard. You work until your muscles shake, and then you work some more. You jump higher, reach higher and stretch further than you thought you could. You get blisters that break and bleed; you might get pulled muscles, but you still keep pushing. Sometimes—usually—you go back to the next class before your sores have healed. This makes it more painful to do the class than it is normally, but you do it anyway. You may grimace through parts of the class because it is so hard, mentally as well as physically. But you work at being—and you do learn to be—smooth, graceful, and smile through it all. You get tough and strong, but you do it so well that everyone who sees you thinks it is effortless. You do it because what you get at the end is worth it. In the end, it is the audience—pleasing the audience, the love of pleasing the audience—that makes all your work and your performance worthwhile.

There must be an analogy for life here. If only I can master the graceful, smiling, effortless part of it while I am still in the class.

Santa, Baby

Only 50 shopping days left until Christmas! The current mantra of every store and every marketing specialist in the United States these days. Yes, Wal-Mart put up their Christmas tree in the front of the store two days before Halloween—don't want anybody to miss the fact that Christmas is coming again this year.

So in keeping with that holiday spirit, I am giving you my Christmas Wish List. Feel free to get me anything here. ;-)

A GOOD sewing machine. I have about four used sewing machines that have been donated to me, plus my $80 e-bay special (which gave its $80 worth and then quit). But what I want is a new Husqvarna Emerald 116 or 118. Price tag: about $500

A stand-mixer, specifically the Cuisinart 5.5 Quart Stand Mixer (as recommended by Cook's Illustrated). Price tag: $349.

Tiles, grout and paint for my living room, or a gift card to Lowe's. Price tag: $200?

A dishwasher. Oh, oh yes! A Dishwasher! Wouldn't that be living in style? Price tag: ???

A water-softener—to keep the dishwasher working right. Price tag: no idea

(No, I am not cheap. But I am so charming!)

Clothes. Nice ones, not the Wal-Mart special. And girly stuff—I think I'm outgrowing the jeans and T-shirt look. Or, at least I'd like to. Price tag: unlimited

Shoes. Cute high-heels in brown, size 6 1/2 W; sneakers, same size; every-day shoes that are not sneakers, probably the same size. Nice ones, not the Payless special. Price tag: $150?

A Frieling Handle-It Glass Bottom Springform Pan. Every year for Christmas I bake a to-die-for NewYork Cheesecake. (I can only bake it once a year because it is rich enough to kill a pig.) When I read about this pan—yes, in Cook's Illustrated—I just had to have it, the Rolls Royce of springform pans. Price Tag: $29.99 (Hey! That sounds kind of reasonable!)

Jewelry. Yes, I am becoming more of a girlish girlie every day. But I don't need 24-carat gold or sterling silver; fake stuff will work beautifully. Except for earrings; sensitive there, so gold or hypo-allergenic, definitely nickel-free, and light-weight. Price tag: No idea.

A pedicure, once a month for a year (or for life!). I've had a pedicure once, and now I fantasize about doing it again—and again, and again. Call me weird. Price tag: once more, no idea.

A membership for two to the local fitness center, and someone who will go with me every day. Price tag: About $250 to $300

Books. No sex, no swearing, no violence.

Well that is all I can think of right now. But I'll bet I could come up with more. Remember, only 50 days. Ho Ho Ho!

p.s. I might even take a lump of coal!

Funny

Yesterday my kids were watching Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. When Milly is having her baby all the six brothers are downstairs pacing the floor; finally the baby cries and Gideon says, "I'm an uncle!" and he passes out flat on the floor. Without skipping a beat, Kaylie (in her little seven-year-old voice) says, "He's a carpet!"

I like my kids! :-)

Jessica

Today is Jessica Day. Mostly because she is just so cute.

Jessica was born fast; my water broke at noon, just as the nurse was coming in to check on me. So she went out to get the resident (my dr. was at another hospital doing a C-section), and while they were busy prepping the room, I said, "The baby is crowning!" So they hurried back to me and caught her at 12:09. When my doctor showed up--about half an hour later--he looked at me, looked at the room and said, "Boy! You sure made a mess!"

Jessica is a sweetie; she's always been a happy girl and all the kids like to play with her.

Today Jessica had her pre-school Halloween party. She dressed up as a witch--not a scary, Wizard-of-Oz witch, but more like an elegant Snow-white witch. I painted her nails blue and put make-up on her, and suddenly Bruce and I could see what she's going to look like as a teenager--she'll be a heartbreaker. Here's the conversation of the morning, between the three of us:

Bruce (to me): "I can see now what she'll look like when she's fifteen. She's gonna be gorgeous!"

He sees her grinning in the rearview mirror, and says to her: "Jessica, all the boys are going to fall in love with you."

Jessica beams.

Bruce and I laugh over this. Then Bruce says," They will all think you are a princess!" (more sunshine from the back of the van). "What will you do then?" he asks.

Jessica contemplates this for a moment and then says, "I will tell them I am a witch."

She may not really be a witch, but Bruce may have created a monster. After the preschool party Jessica informed us that "all of the boys loved me."

What kind of a sick world do we live in, where a woman feels like she can't just go out in her own backyard and scream her head off?

It Stung Me!

I have a new bee in my bonnet that keeps buzzing around and around. I want to redecorate my living room! Well, I've wanted to do that for a long time—almost since we moved in. But now I really want to redecorate it. First I want to attack the fireplace. Yes, I do mean attack; with a sledgehammer.

Before we bought our house the entire thing was PINK: pink carpet throughout, Pepto-Bismol pink walls in one bedroom, pink roses on the wallpaper in the master bedroom, mauve countertops. Ugh! A product of the 80's, decorated by a lover-of-pink. Our fireplace is made of faux stone, in reddish-brown to pinky colors, and I just don't really like it. I guess I don't entirely hate it, but I don't care for it. So I want to pound out the stone and redo the fireplace in tile. I looked at it pretty closely a few days ago, and I really think it would come out fairly easily—provided I can muster up the brute strength it will require. It would take 35 square feet of tile to refinish it, so I think it could be a less-than-$100 project.

Jessica, as Vanna, showing off my tile selection. I'd use a darkish-brown grout.

Here are my swell fireplace drawings that I spent hours and hours on (mostly because I just kept measuring wrong—also I am apparently incapable of making parallel diagonal lines). The shaded tiles are 4-inches square, in an accent color (the ones I like are kind of bronzey). Which tile layout do you like best . . .

. . . the diagonal layout (above), or the straight layout (below)?

The diagonal layout would require more cutting of tiles, and would take a few more tiles than the straight layout. But that's not a terribly big deal. I think. (No, I'm not painting the walls in a white and blue plaid pattern.)

I also really want to paint. Our walls were done in cheap, ugly white paint just before we moved into the house in April 2000. A lot of it has chipped and peeled, and what's still physically intact is just plain dirty. [Hmmm. I'm afraid I am making my house sound incredibly unattractive. At least, for the most part, it isn't pink any more.]

Well, anyway, I want to paint most of the walls in a creamy-tannish color (the actual color I chose is called "Almond Oil"), leaving the doors and casings white. Then I want to do the wall behind the fireplace in a deep color. I had a hard time choosing a good color because that particular wall continues into the kitchen, which is open to the livingroom. And while the living room has sage-colored carpet, the kitchen counters, you remember, are mauve. But I finally did find a color that matches both rooms nicely; kind of a brick-red (actually a lot like the current fireplace color).

If it's possible to do nicely, I'd like to repaint the iron railing that's between the kitchen and livingroom and follows down the stairs. Right now the railings are painted with cheap, white, peeling paint; I'd like them to be matte black. And if it could be done well, I'd like to put a wood cap on the tops of the rails too.

And then, if money were no object I would also replace the sage carpet for wood or laminate flooring. That would be nice! And I would replace the mauve countertops with something much more neutral. Maybe re-do the kitchen cabinets while I'm at it. And put tile on the kitchen floor. And buy a new couch. And hey! New chairs for the kitchen, too!

But for now I'm just dreaming of doing the fireplace and the painting. Who knows? Maybe in a couple of weeks . . .

Weighing

I am in one of those funks where I'm just not sure if I really want to lose weight.

I usually look at myself in the mirror and really don't think I look bad. I don't look like a giant medicine ball (or anything close to it). I look around at other people—yes, I am one of those horrible women who compares herself to everyone else (but at least I don't compare other people with me)—anyway, I look at other women that I think are attractive and I can see that my figure is pretty much the same as theirs. I am far from looking like a fashion-model, but who isn't? I am healthy. So what's the big deal?

Then, other times, I look in the mirror and see a tummy that's fuller than I like, fistfuls of stuff hanging onto my hips and thighs and I think, "Yech!" (This is usually when I'm about to get into the shower, or I'm in my pantyhose.)

But most of the time I keep my clothes on, and I think I'm not really so bad. The only other person who ever sees me without my clothes thinks I'm pretty fabulous—which kind of makes me question his judgment, sometimes.

Still, the number on the scale nags at me. I want to feel wonderful no matter what that number says, but I just don't know.

So, what do I really want? Can you answer that?

Date of the Century: Bruce's Story

Bruce had posted his story as a comment, but I thought it should go right here where everyone would be sure to see it. I did ask him to add a little more detail than he put in the original comment—I hope he doesn't embarrass anyone! ;-)

I planned this for YEARS! I spent a lot, but IT WAS WORTH IT. That summer I realized that I only had 2 terms of school, and then I was DONE! I loved Loralee, and appreciated her support and sacrifice for me to go to school—so I took some student loan money and started setting up The Dream Date.

I had so much fun arranging all this. It took four weeks to set it up. One day, I took Loralee on a "cheap date" to try on prom rental dresses. It was more fun than I predicted to see my pretty gal in lots of different gowns! When I found out how little it cost to buy last year's fashions, I bought her favorite—in green—when I went back to get fitted for my tux. Each store was run by women, and they would all say "awww!" when I explained what I was doing. I wanted to build up suspense for Loralee, so I wanted her to have lots of places to go and nice things to do. I rented a tux and got her dress (Awww!), I arranged the facial, manicure, hair (Awww!) evening caterers (Awww!), and lunch (Awww!). As I began to see the scope of this whole thing, I realized I should have pictures of this big event! But I didn't want to take them myself (I wanted to be in the pics, too!) so I arranged for a professional photographer. She's a nice lady with classic southern accent and manners:
"Is this a big formal dance?"
"No, ma'am."
"Is it her birthday?"
"Not until April."
"Well it must be y'all's wedding anniversary!"
"That's in March."
"Well now then, what's the big occasion? it's not Valentine's in August!"
"No, Ma'am. I just want to show her I love her."
"Awww! This is so sweet! You need to have a talk with my husband."

I never expected the reactions from all the ladies at all the stores I went to. But by the time of the big day, as I made final arrangements—just minutes ahead of Loralee!—I was predicting every word of conversation when I paid the girls at Castner-Knott's (Awww!). I didn't know I could have such a profound emotional effect on so many females I didn't even know—all the compliments, dreamy-eyed smiles, and heavy sighs—I could get used to that. Meanwhile...

I wanted everything to go right—I had built a very complicated day, with notes in the right places, flowers, all the shops expecting Loralee at the right times—I was nervous! I finished early, and had an hour or two before Loralee would be at Simply Southern. It was too early to check in to our room, so I went back to my now-empty home and paced the floor, wondering if everything was going according to plan for Loralee. I was too nervous to eat. Finally, after ages of reviewing every detail over and over, I figured I could go to the Bed and Breakfast. I set things up as fast as I could, and it seems like there were a few things I hadn't considered until I started laying it out in our suite. Then the doorbell rang—Loralee!!! But it's not ready yet! I felt so intense—or tense—I had wanted everything to build up to the moment when I would have her with me in our room, alone. I waited in the bedroom of the suite, and I heard Georgia walk Loralee down the hall to the main door of the suite. I slipped out the back door, into the hallway, as Loralee came around. Okay, she will see the flower, read the note, change clothes, and then...! I was so nervous I was nearly shaking. I couldn't stand it. She knocked on the door, I went back into the bedroom, and she looked stunning. And hot. And I couldn't talk. Or anything else. All I could do was take off her blindfold and, well, she did kiss me. A lot. So I didn't have to talk much. But the photographers were coming soon, so we had to get her into her dress and out to meet them.

It was awesome to finally be with Loralee.

It was a wonderful twenty-four hours. I am married to the most beautiful, loyal, smart, sexy, bright-eyed babe of all time! I'll do this for you again, Girlfriend—except, this time, maybe I'll drive for you—or hire a limo to drive for us! Then I could hold your, um, hand—while we drive. ;) Waddya say—will you go with me, Loralee?

THE Date of the Century, finale

Apparently I got to the bed and breakfast earlier than I should have, because it took them a long time to answer the door. The hostess, Georgia, showed me to a beautiful suite of rooms where there was still no "admirer" to be seen, but there was another note:

Oh, my darling Loralee,
My heart is pounding with the anticipation of this moment! I have wanted to give you all there is in the world, but I do not have the means. But I will give you all that I have, and all that I am.
Don't be shy! Close the doors to the bedroom. Put on only the bra, panties and blindfold. When you are ready, knock on the door to the suite (not the hallway), and sit on the edge of the bed.
I have one more gift for you, and it is a surprise.
Your Admirer,
Bruce

Oh! I just knew it was Bruce! (Good thing! It would have been really, incredibly frightening at this point if it wasn't him!) I followed the instructions, to the letter, and waited.

Sweet Nothings

Pretty soon Bruce came in, and delivered a kiss. He carefully, oh so gently removed . . .

. . . the blindfold, and I got to see my last gifts: a gorgeous, floor-length, green gown of velvet and taffeta presented by a very dashing, handsome husband dressed up in a tuxedo. After a little kissing and necking (only a little—didn't want to mess up the hair-do!), he told me to get dressed and touch up my make-up.

So I got all dressed up and then we went down to the big front porch of the house, where a little picnic had been set up and a photographer was waiting for us. We had some pictures taken while we nibbled on strawberries, salmon mousse with crackers, and sipped sparkling grape juice. Then Bill Shacklett and his sister, Gloria (the photographers) took us all over Simply Southern and across the street to the MTSU campus (also a beautiful place) to take our pictures as the sun was setting. I think Bill and Gloria were having just as much fun as we were. Gloria found a "sweetheart tree"—two adjoining trunks, becoming one tree—for us to lean on for some of the pictures. ("How perfect! A sweetheart tree!") And Bill kept saying how Bruce was making every man in the state look bad, and if word got out there would be a lynching party. We had lots of fun! The whole event was so nice.

Front Porch Picnic

Back in our suite, around 7 p.m, we had dinner catered in from another nice restaurant—but neither of us was really hungry. So we went down to the rec-room of the house where Bruce sang me love songs with the Karaoke machine; then we played pool, played the piano, and just relaxed together. We spent that night in the most comfortable bed we'd ever slept in. In the morning we had a fantastic home-made breakfast while we chatted with Georgia and Karl, the owners of Simply Southern, who were the personification of "Southern Hospitality."

At Simply Southern

Later we went to see The Hermitage (Andrew Jackson's home). We shopped a little, and had the disposable camera developed before we picked up our kids late in the afternoon. It was so wonderful to have some time together with no kids and no worries—just each other to think about for a little while.

Isn't he handsome?

Don't I have a wonderful husband? He thinks so much of me, is so very good to me, and takes such good care of me. I am such a lucky girl to have a man like him! He had planned everything beautifully, and I felt like a princess the entire time. Each surprise was so fun and exciting, and all the people that worked with us were as thrilled as I was. It was a lot of fun to have everyone telling me what a wonderful guy I had, too.

A Secret Kiss

The date kind of continued for the next couple of weeks, too, as we chose the pictures we wanted to keep. We had one enlarged to 24x30 (or something like that); now it hangs on my bedroom wall, where it is the last thing I see before I go to sleep and the first thing I look at in the morning. So I often think about the great adventure my husband made, going all-out, just for me.

Happy Couple

The only thing that could have made the day more fun for me would have been to spend more time with Bruce; but that just made it so much the better when he finally was with me. I'd really have to say that it was The Date of the Century!

Next to the "Sweetheart Tree"

And Bruce, this is just a heads-up, but I have to tell you that we are in a new century now! ;-) I love you!

The Date of the Century, part 6

At Gore Studios I had my hair styled in a pretty up-do; the ladies who worked with me were so tickled! They all thought my admirer was the greatest guy on the planet. (I do too!) They told me how excited he was to do this for me, and asked how my day had gone so far. They said they wished their husbands (or boyfriends) were so thoughtful and romantic. They couldn't believe that he was doing all of this for no special occasion—not a birthday or an anniversary; just for some fun and romance.

While I was at Gore Studios I also learned about Pergo flooring for the first time. A friend of Karan's stopped in to say hi while she was working on my hair, and they talked about the Pergo flooring she'd just had done (in the studio). It looked fine. In fact, two years later Bruce and I put Pergo in our kitchen. But what does that have to do with anything?

Anyway, after my hair was done they gave me a red rose, took my picture and gave me this note:

Oh, my darling Loralee,

Please rush to me! Look for a house at 211 North Tennessee Boulevard, with a small sign out front that says "Simply Southern." Bring all of your things to the front door and ring the bell. Georgia will show you upstairs.
I can hardly believe this day is finally coming to be. I must see you—I want so much to be with you again, to hold you and care for you.
With all of my heart,
Your Admirer

I drove off to Simply Southern, a bed and breakfast in a lovely, century-old mansion in Murfreesboro. Surely Bruce would meet me there!

Continued . . .

The Date of the Century, part 5

I really enjoyed my time with Janet, at Liege's. She was a little bit older than everyone else I'd worked with that morning, and although she thought my adventure was pretty wonderful, she didn't have that bouncy-puppy attitude. Don't misunderstand me; I was really enjoying myself, and I liked hearing about how terrific my "admirer" was. But after everyone you meet has asked you if this isn't just the best day of your entire life, and told you how lucky you are, and gushed about your guy—over and over again—you kind of run out of things to say back to them. Janet did say that this whole thing was really neat, but she also got me talking about my kids and life, in general. She was very pleasant to be with. The note she gave me said:

My Lovely Loralee,
I hope all has gone well at Liege's. Now, walk just around the corner, in the same building, to Gore Studios. Ask for Karan, and don't forget to take the camera.
I am dying to see you! I can hardly wait longer to be with you, and to hold you in my arms. Please, please ask Karan not to take long.
Longingly,
Your Admirer

You know, this would be really creepy if some other guy was my admirer!

Continued tomorrow . . .