Economy Of Mythical Proporthons

My baby lost her first tooth. She's 5. An early bloomer, just like her mom. She had a full set of teeth at 5 months, so I guess I shouldn't be too surprised by this, but I thought I had at least another year before she started losing the pearly calcifications.

The Tooth Fairy dropped off $5 in $1 bills. Chalk that one up to the economic crisis. I think the government should offer all mythical creatures a bit of that bailout money, don't you? I mean, I've seen Santa panhandling on the street corner for weeks now. I guess he's out of a job too. Let's hope Obama can help him out, huh?



And here is our toothless wonder. She is quite excited to use that new found hole by squeezing a straw in the gap, and using it as a "holder". Honestly, it was the cutest little tooth. So tiny. And such a metaphor for what is to come. I know soon we'll be looking into braces, and acne wash, and lip gloss. Too soon. Too, too soon.

Friday Fun

Only on Saturday.

Did you miss me yesterday? I know you did. I was ripe with diarrhea and vomitous, so I took the day off, thankyouverymuch. But I'm back and I give you this.




This, my friends, is what Diesel fuel looks like when the weather outside is muy frightful. Like, -30 frightful. In Nebraska. On a Sunday. And we don't want to spend another minute in small town Nebraska, but we have no choice because we need a new fuel filter STAT! frightful. Did that sentence make sense? It did in my head.

I think Diesel fuel is supposed to look, more, well, fuel-y, than buttery. I'm just guessing, though. Good thing Sugar Daddy is good with his hands (wink wink) and got that bad filter out and the new one in in 5 minutes flat. He da man.

Important Things, Part Deux

A few years ago, maybe 2 or so, Jill gave Sugar Daddy this nifty hitch cover shaped as a golf club. It's pretty cool. He loves it, though I wish she had given him the truck nuts, but it will do. This little beauty has seen a lot over the last couple of years. New wheels and tires, a new baby, a cross-country move, and 2, count them, 2 accidents.


And both times, this has saved his butt (no pun intended). The first time was last winter, our first here in Chicago, and surprisingly, most people are not great drivers when it comes to snow covered roads. Sugar Daddy had pulled in to McD's for a refreshing beverage after a long day of work, when he felt a little jostle. He didn't even spill his drink. So he pulls forward a titch, and sees what is left of a Dodge Neon in his rearview. Mr. Neon Driver was a little too ambitious when it came to getting his after-work treat. He hit Sean at a slow speed, but seeing as it was a Neon, and made of wax paper or something similar, the hood was now a taco, and Sugar Daddy's truck, well, it had nary a scratch. You could see where the Neon had made contact with the golf club hitch, and the hood of the car just folded around it. Score one for the Club.

The second, and hopefully last, time this happened, was just this week. As Sugar Daddy headed through an intersection at the left hand turn light, the driver behind him was so anxious to get to work that morning, he tried to push Sugar Daddy out of the way with his Pontiac. This time, the man was so shaken up, he couldn't even get out of the car, which I think has more to do with the fact that his tags were expired, and I'm just guessing he had no insurance, if you know what I mean. Sugar Daddy saw that again, the golf club hitch had saved his rear (sorry, I just couldn't help it!), and waved at the man, and drove off, leaving a Pontiac with a mashed in hood, and a very scared immigrant behind.

So Jill, you always win when it comes to gift giving. You are definitely the most thoughtful, and you always know exactly what will be touching and special. You could always make Mom cry with your sweet gifts. And though you probably thought the golf club hitch was a funny man-gift with no real purpose, know that it has served more than it's purpose of making aware Sugar Daddy's love of the game. I figure it has saved us at least 2 trips to the body shop, and who knows how many arguments about who is the better driver. And that, my dear sister, is very important.

Important Things

Surprisingly, Sugar Daddy has a perfect driving record. This seems so funny to me, even as his wife, because he has tendencies toward road rage (minor) and speeding (medium), and even erratic driving (major). He tries to talk on his phone, shift, and steer, all at the same time. It's tricky, trust me, I've tried it. I'm not great at it. He can do it with no problems, sometimes even balancing a refreshing beverage in his hand. It's a gift, really.

But his perfect record has nearly been marred a couple of times. Once, 11 years ago, on a lonely road North of Kemmerer, Wyoming, as we headed hurriedly up to Jackson Hole for our honeymoon, a bored Highway Patrol officer pulled us over for speeding. After seeing us in our newly wedded bliss, and I'd like to think a strong stirring from the Spirit, he let us go with just a warning. Whew.

Last weekend again, we were hurrying home from Utah, only this time instead of newly wedded bliss, we had 3 kids sleeping and a truck bed packed to the hilt with Christmas loot. A Lincoln, Nebraska construction zone can be a lonely place at 2 AM, so when those red and blues turned on, it nearly caused an anal hygiene problem for me, if you know what I mean. I instinctively opened up the glove box to get out the registration and proof of insurance, ( you see, I'm really no stranger to the routine) as the friendly police officer approached my side of the truck.

It is at this point 3 things happen simultaneously. First, I realize we have no current proof of insurance. They are all expired, some just barely (August), and some for quite a while ( January of 07). Second, I see our registration is a little iffy, at best. Sure, it has the county in which we live, but no home address, no name to which the vehicle is registered, and no make or model of the vehicle. Hmmm, weird. And third, I get a gut instinct that this officer is only looking for drunk drivers on this the first night of the year. I know that none of our misdeeds is enough for him to care about.

Sure enough, he takes Sugar Daddy back to his vehicle, makes small talk with him while he runs our plates, and proceeds to tell him he and his wife are expecting their first child in June. I think once he saw the 3 kids, and heard we were from Utah, he figured there were probably a few extra wives and several dozen children awaiting our return. Which is fine, I think it's kind of a fun stereotype to let people believe. It makes me chuckle.

So despite our lacking proper papers, and the fact that we were doing 11 over in a construction zone, Officer Goodeed let us go with just a warning. Wow. Again, we made it by the skin of our teeth.

And Sugar Daddy continues his perfect driving record. Much to my chagrin, as I have had a couple of incidents with red lights, and garbage cans. No matter. It keeps our insurance down, and it makes him feel superior to all the other drivers on the road. And that's what is most important.

But stay tuned for tomorrow's installment of "why it's good to have a golf club shaped hitch plug when you live in an icy environment", or "thanks to Jill's fabulous gift, she has saved us thousands of dollars in deductibles". Trust me, you don't want to miss it.

Snow + Power = Hilarity

Cousin Chad is so sweet. He always has something fun up his sleeve, and is endlessly entertaining our kids. One day, he'll make a great dad, but for now, we'll take him as our surrogate. This particular day, a day or two before Christmas, we headed over to his parents house, and spent hours (okay, maybe an hour) pulling the kidlets around on sleds behind the 4 wheelers. It brought back many a fun childhood memory, as we spent most of our winters this way.

It was a cold day, so Chad built us a fire by which we could warm ourselves. As you can see, it didn't feel cold to me, since it was at least 30, and it hasn't gotten up to 30 in my hometown for months, now. It felt balmy to me.


Here I am, pulling Brent on the snowboard. He did better than I thought he would, and apparently, he was cracking me up. Yes, you see correctly, I have no coat on. Honestly, the only thing that got cold on me was my hands. I'm so tough.


Here's poor Livvy. She was the first casualty of the evening. Bloody nose, fat lip, and not a peep of discomfort from her. She was such a good sport. She was very brave, and wouldn't give up, even with blood streaming down her face and onto her coat.

Sugar Daddy and Emma driving around like they own the place. I think Duane was a little miffed when Sugar Daddy decided to take a spin through his garden, so I had to put a stop to that right off. Emma loved driving, though, and I think some 4 wheelers are in our near future.



Here's Kinney slamming righteously into Brent's car. You see, Sugar Daddy was a little slow on figuring out the whole "whip the sled around, but avoid obstacles at all costs" thing. Good thing Brent is leaving on his mission, here to Chicago!, in a couple of months. I doubt he'll even notice the dent her head left. Although she does tend to walk in circles, now.

I have some cute photos of Gabe and Eli, too, but blogger is being picky, and won't upload them. I don't know why. Maybe because they are 2 of the cutest boys Ev.Er. and blogger feels like keeping the fairest in the land hidden away.

I also have one of Maggie having what could be the best time of her life. If you can sense my sarcasm here, it's fully intended. That girl is afraid of everything. For her, wearing layers of clothes, gloves, boots and a hat, along with the loud sound of the 4 wheelers, was totally overwhelming. She hardly moved from my side, or from the fire pit, the entire time. Oh, except for when I literally shoved her into my lap on the sled so we could go for a ride together. Yeah, she screamed the whole time. I know, I know, slap the parent of the year award right here next to my many others, but my dad did that kind of stuff to me, so I figure it can't be all that harmful, right? I mean, I turned out perfectly.

I Resolve

Okay, okay, everyone is doing it, so I guess I should too. Tis the season of resolution making, and if you're anything like me, breaking. But to help give myself a better chance of keeping my resolutions for more than a day or two (remember the time I gave up Diet Pepsi for like 12 hours? Yeah, I'm that devoted), I've decided to make monthly goals. Easy stuff. Stuff I can do in my sleep, or on the toilet. No, I'm serious. I'll 'splain.

One of my goals is to work on food storage. I plan on doing a little every time I visit the store. A little extra ketchup here, a few extra tissues here, yadda yadda, and after a month of this, voila!, food storage.

The other goal I have can easily be done whilst taking care of those matters of nature. Surprisingly, I don't ever read the Ensign. I know. I should. I admit, I try. But I get bored, and decide folding laundry is more fun than reading about Jimmy saving his pennies to buy Gabriel a new tie for church. (You know you've read a story just like that, right?) So, my plan includes taking the monthly edition of the Ensign directly upstairs to the bathroom. Usually I peruse Parents Magazine or the L.L. Bean catalog, or the back of the air freshener spray, so this idea will get me going (no pun intended!) in the right direction. So far, so good, on this one.

One more goal I have, and one at which I fully intend to fail, is to reinstate Family Home Evenings. I was so good when we first moved here. Every Monday night, there was a lesson, a song, and a snack. Then Summer Vacation arrived, and we haven't had one since. So tonight is the night. We're doing it.

So there you go. Those are my goals. Right out there in the open. I will post these on the side of my blog so I will be reminded daily. Nothing like a nagging note to get you motivated, right?

Wedding Day

Well, she said "Yes" at the appropriate time, so here are the pictures that prove it. She was the most gorgeous bride I've ever seen, and I'm not just saying that because she's my little sister. She did a fabulous job planning the wedding, and everything turned out beautifully, even the weather.


Moments after saying "Yes".


Isn't that one of the most gorgeous cakes you've ever seen? She grew that wheat grass all by her self, with a little help from Kelli, Jill, and a grass growing operation in the basement.


Saying bye to Dad. Aww.


So purdy. Those are Mom's pearls, and her ring consists of Meg's engagement ring, and my mom's wedding band. They look so beautiful together.

It was a fun night. The sisters all got to mingle around the guests all night long, and it was fun seeing people on a good note this time. There was still a definite missing piece, but not in a sad way. It was as if Mom just stayed in the back of our minds, and let Meg have her day. So typically Mom. We're so excited to have Uncle Josh join our family. I hope he realizes what he got himself into!

Whew. Almost.

There is much more to this title than you will ever know. Surprisingly, I do keep a lot of my personal life to myself. But there are a few meanings that I can expound upon here.

1. We made it to Utah in just under 25 hours. That's driving time, people. We encountered 100 slide offs in Des Moines, and just after passing through the city, realized they had closed the highway behind us. Good times. But we made it. I have a picture of what Diesel fuel does when it gets too cold. You'll see it soon.

2. Christmas was good. The kids had a great time, got too many presents, and ate too much junk food. Just like Christmas should be. We were all dreading the holiday without mom around, and it turned out just fine. All the grandkids got teddy bears with outfits on that are made from Nunn's clothes. They are so adorable, and we all had a good cry. Then TroyBoy pulls out purple hand made bracelets for us girls, and they all have little sterling sliver ribbon charms on them. Another good cry ensued. You'll see pictures of those, too.

3. Yesterday, the 30th, Sugar Daddy and I celebrated 11 years of wedded. Bliss, okay, wedded bliss. And Meg also go married yesterday. Yes, she went through with it. Nevermind the shackles and gags that were involved to get her to say "Yes" at the appropriate time. Kidding people, kidding. Fear not, there will be oodles of picture of that day to follow.

4. We saw Body Worlds today. So cool. The science behind it is amazing, but to see how delicate life is reinforces to me that God is in everything. There is just no doubt after seeing that. Not that there ever was, but you know what I mean.

5. Tonight is New Year's Eve. We are spending the evening with Troyboy and Kelli making home made pizza with artichokes and olives. Mmm Mmm good. Do you think I could get sued for using that as my motto? Oh well.

6. Which means that this year is almost over. If someone had told me last year what 2008 would hold, I would have laughed. Now, I know there are no limits to what life can bring. So, in keeping with that frame of mind, my resolution for the year is to work on enhancing my food storage. Before you start sending me links to places to buy powdered water, and ways to preserve chicken hearts for 100 years, let me explain that I don't plan on doing that kind of food storage. I mean the kind that entails extra supplies of things I use deliberately, daily even. Not stuff I will shove in a corner of my basement and forget about until my 14th child needs a bedroom down there.


So, I hope you are fully prepared for the onslaught of pictures that are to follow. Life has been good to me for the last two weeks, and as much as I hate to leave my family, I'm ready to get back to reality.

Friday Fun

It's Friday again. Yay. Christmas break starts today, thanks to an early call from the school last night canceling classes due to the impending snow storm. I'm saying good call (literally!) on that one, since we woke up to about a foot of snow. Emma was bummed, since they were supposed to have their class Holiday party today, but I told her I would let her stay in her jammies all day and have a fun day at home instead. That seemed to work.

So please forgive the tardiness of this post, I have been outside snow blowing my little heart out all morning. And without further ado, I give you this little beauty:



I love it. I laugh every time I drive by it. It's a sign posted at the Catholic church where Maggie goes to dance class. Oh, and the church bells ring every hour. It's so beautiful to hear them, and to see the birds fly out of the belfry. With the snow, and the boughs and the Nativity, it seems so very "Home Alone"-esque, which by the way was filmed somewhere here in Chicagoland.

So there you go. I hope to be able to get a few more posts in before Christmas, especially one last True Meaning Tuesday, but with the storms coming, and a 2 day drive ahead of us to the Promised Land, I can't make any guarantees. So if I don't see you before, have a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!

Good Santa, Bad Santa

We had our annual Ward Christmas party on Saturday night, as did the rest of the Mormon world, I think. Being on the newly formed activities committee, we were in charge of various aspects of the party. Part of the food, including baking 5 bags of potatoes, the paper products, and finding a suitable (get it, suit?) Santa, were all left up to us. After volunteering said Santa, there were a few weeks where we weren't sure we would even have a Santa. Luckily, he came around, and decided it would be good for his soul, not to mention his sleeping habits, since if he had rejected the part, he would be sleeping on the couch. We procured a suitable suit from neighbor Kate, and Voila! Santa was born.


Santa with some neighborhood girls. Excellent babysitters, these girls. Look how excited they are!


Who knew Santa had such big beautiful blue eyes?


And here he is telling a sweet story of the symbolism of the candy cane. He did an excellent job. He knew most of the kids by name, which is always a plus when you're playing the part of Santa. The only "oopsie" moment, was when we realized he had on brown shoes, and not black. Eh, small details.


All in all, it was a great night. We had plenty of potatoes, ran out of side dishes, and had to make an emergency run to Jewel for more cookies for dessert. But everyone had a good time, and we fed and entertained about 165 people for 2 hours. Not bad. And our Bishop gave us a count, saying he thought we had at least 40 non-members or investigators present. Wow. That's unheard of in Utah. I don't even know 40 non-members in Utah! It's refreshing to see the community all come together to celebrate a common thread, regardless of religion.

That was our one big party, and now we're pretty much taking it easy until the Memorial Day picnic. I think we are planning a Spring service project, but we have to wait until the ice melts (around May) before we decide exactly what it will be. Now, it's all about getting us to Utah, through our first Christmas without Mom, and having the best wedding ever!

True Meaning Tuesday

I thought a few quotes of Christmas would be better today than a long story. Sometimes I just like to skim through, and not have to devote a whole 2 minutes to reading a story. So here are a few quotes to uplift, and lighten your heart on this day.



There's nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child."
~ Erma Bombeck (1927-1996), American author and humorist.


Gifts of time and love are surely the basic ingredients of a truly merry Christmas."
~ Peg Bracken.


The earth has grown old with its burden of care But at Christmas it always is young, The heart of the jewel burns lustrous and fair And its soul full of music breaks the air, When the song of angels is sung."
~ Phillips Brooks (1835-93), American Episcopal bishop, wrote 'O Little Town of Bethlehem'.


Christmas! The very word brings joy to our hearts. No matter how we may dread the rush, the long Christmas lists for gifts and cards to be bought and given--when Christmas Day comes there is still the same warm feeling we had as children, the same warmth that enfolds our hearts and our homes."
~ Joan Winmill Brown, American author and editor.

This is the message of Christmas: We are never alone."
~ Taylor Caldwell (1900-1985), English novelist.

Remember, if Christmas isn't found in your heart, you won't find it under a tree."
~ Charlotte Carpenter.

There are no strangers on Christmas Eve."
~ Adele Comandini and Edward Sutherland. Michael O'Brien (Charles Winninger), Beyond Tomorrow, after proposing that the partners invite three strangers to dinner (1940).

To the American People: Christmas is not a time or a season but a state of mind. To cherish peace and good will, to be plenteous in mercy, is to have the real spirit of Christmas. If we think on these things, there will be born in us a Savior and over us will shine a star sending its gleam of hope to the world."
~ Calvin Coolidge (1872-1933), American president. Presidential message (December 25, 1927).

Remember

Do you remember back when my thermometer read 6 degrees? I would kill for that today.

3. Yes, 3. With the wind (which is blowing at 50 mph) chill, -14.

But I still say I'd rather be cold than hot. I hate being too hot. I don't sweat pretty, but I like to be bundled up with a pretty silk(like) scarf and a warm down(ish) coat.

Update

*You can all rejoice in my glory be. The part for my water heater has arrived, and Sugar Daddy will be coming home early to put it in. Rest assured that my usual warm, witty self will return with the first blast of hot water on Monday morning. It's a good thing it came today, because to be honest, Maggie is turning into the pee kid, and Gretta isn't far behind. I'm a little worried about giving Emma a whiff, because who knows what that one smells like. Eww.

Fun For Friday

The other day I received a package. No, it wasn't the loot from my win over at Tip Junkie, since that hasn't yet arrived. It was a mystery package. Something I wasn't expecting. That's the best kind of mail.

I rip it open, and what do I find inside?


This little beauty. Courtesy of Barb, over at Terrill Connection. She also included the sweetest little note, and totally made me cry, which under normal circumstances is hard to do, but lately, I'll cry just about anywhere. But I would have cried regardless. She is so sweet to send this to lil ol' me. I love it. It's adorable. And I will wear it with pride.

So thanks, Barb. You made my day. And having my day made, well, that's fun.

The Cold Hard Truth

Well, today is gonna suck. Big time. For a few reasons.

You see, a few days ago, I noticed that I had pretty limited hot water when I was taking a shower. And by limited I mean it only lasted 20 minutes instead of 30 minutes at boiling hot temperatures. I mentioned this to Sugar Daddy, who promptly fixed it. Well, Tuesday comes around, and suddenly, right there mid-lather, no.hot.water. None. And when it's 6 degrees outside, that water is freaking cold. I rinse, all the while my nipples are etching the glass doors (TMI? Yeah, but it's funny, huh?) , and I head to the basement to check it out. Uh oh. There is a flashing code on the thermostat. Uh oh. I don't know my water heaters, but I know this isn't good.

So for 2 days now, I've been making do with limited (at best) warm water. The kids are getting a little funky, and I'm not one of those that can go more than a day without a shower. Hopefully our water heater is still under warranty, because I already spent our cruise money on my dog's uterus, and I don't have much Christmas money left to spare. I mean, I may be okay with getting 2 generators for my birthday, but a water heater for Christmas is just over the line.

Also, I ate 5 Hershey's Nuggets for breakfast. Hey, they had almonds in them. Healthy, no?

I'm reading sTori Telling by Tori Spelling, which has a very clever title, don't you think? It's a very easy read about her life growing up. Wow, it's "hard to have sympathy for a girl that wants a certain car for her 16th birthday, and her parents buy her a newer, more expensive car instead". It's not a bad read, just kind of "blah blah blah, I'm so picked on, blah blah blah". But then I find out she has issues with certain lifestyles, and now I have no desire to finish her book. I just hate the thought of supporting someone that is so narrow minded. So we'll see.

And finally, remember when I tried to give up Diet Pepsi? I've done it! I'm totally off the diet. But now I'm on full strength. Yep, I've crossed back over, Jill. I'm sure my mom is cursing me right now, since she was kind of the proponent of Diet that I needed. But I just like me some sugar first thing in the morning, know what I'm sayin'?

So that's pretty much it. I'm heading to neighbor Kate's for a shower, and then it's off to dance, unless water heater fixer dude can make it over this morning. Then dance will have to wait.

Wish me luck!

Dear Disney

Dear Disney,

I'm writing you in regards to your various styles of childrens dress-up shoes. You see, I own a couple of pairs of these, or rather, my daughters own a couple of pairs of these. They are wonderful accessories to the dresses and wings and wands and such. And as a woman who never learned, I thank you for teaching my children to walk in high heels at the age of 2, because it is a life long skill that cannot be learned too young.

There is a flaw to your dress up shoes style, however. Something I know you'll be grateful I am pointing out. If you could please make the shoes a little narrower and possibly a little more ill-fitting, as to facilitate a more rapid sprain or break of the ankle, I would be so happy. You see, I know eventually my dear daughters will fall and break something important, and I feel that your current design is just prolonging the inevitable. Perhaps you could just remove the flimsy ankle straps with the barely functioning buckle? Or maybe make the toe box just a little more awkward, so the pinky toe and the next toe have to hang out of the side together, rather than just the pinky toe alone. That would probably do the trick, since it would throw off the delicate balance just enough.

Finally, I wish you would make the bottoms even more slick, since the hard plastic sole against wood floors is far too much traction for a 2 year old balancing on 3 inch heels. If you could maybe have a silicone lubricant applied to the bottom, so they could just slide along the flooring surface and cause the child to fall backwards onto their head, that would be a much better scenario than having her feet slip sideways out from underneath her and causing her knees to fold laterally. I mean, tearing an ACL is such an easier injury to recover from at a young age, no sense in waiting until adolesence.

Thank you for your time in reading this letter. Please feel free to send me any prototypes you may have in the works already, as my children are fully prepared to sustain serious injury in the hopes of bankrupting other families with your overpriced dress-up accessories. They're just such givers.

Sincerely,
A mom who thinks the balancing act can never be learned too young.

Blagojevich's Forecast

I'm saying stormy, at best. I just love living in the land of mobsters and corruption. It's a long way from Utah.

True Meaning Tuesday

Bobby was getting cold sitting out in his backyard in the snow. Bobby didn't wear boots; he didn't like them and anyway, he didn't own any. The thin sneakers he wore had a few holes in them and they did a poor job of keeping out the cold. Bobby had been in his backyard for about an hour already. And, try as he might, he could not come up with an idea for his mother's Christmas gift. He shook his head as he thought, "This is useless, even if I do come up with an idea, I don't have any money to spend." Ever since his father had passed away three years ago, the family of five had struggled. It wasn't because his mother didn't care, or try, there just never seemed to be enough. She worked nights at the hospital, but the small wage that she was earning could only be stretched so far. What the family lacked in money and material things, they more than made up for in love and family unity. Bobby had two older and one younger sister who ran the household in their mother's absence. All three of his sisters had already made beautiful gifts for their mother. Somehow it just wasn't fair. Here it was Christmas Eve already and he had nothing. Wiping a tear from his eye, Bobby kicked the snow and started to walk down to the street where the shops and stores were. It wasn't easy being six without a father, especially when he needed a man to talk to. Bobby walked from shop to shop looking into each decorated window. Everything seemed so beautiful and so out of reach. It was starting to get dark and Bobby reluctantly turned to walk home when suddenly his eyes caught the glimmer of the setting sun's rays reflecting off of something along the curb. He reached down and discovered a shiny dime. Never before has anyone felt so wealthy as Bobby felt at that moment. As he held his new found treasure, a warmth spread throughout his entire body and he walked into the first store he saw. His excitement quickly turned cold when salesperson after salesperson told him that he could not buy anything with only a dime. He saw a flower shop and went inside to wait in line. When the shop owner asked if he could help him, Bobby presented the dime and asked if he could buy one flower for his mother's Christmas gift. The shop owner looked at Bobby and his ten cent offering. Then, he put his hand on Bobby's shoulder and said to him, "You just wait here and I'll see what I can do for you." Bobby waited, he looked at the beautiful flowers and even though he was a boy, he could see why mothers and girls liked flowers. The sound of the door closing as the last customer left jolted Bobby back to reality. All alone in the shop, Bobby began to feel alone and afraid. Suddenly, the shop owner came out and moved to the counter. There, before Bobby's eyes, lay twelve long-stem, red roses, with leaves of green and tiny white flowers all tied together with a big silver bow. Bobby's heart sank as the owner picked them up and placed them gently into a long white box. "That will be ten cents young man," the shop owner said, reaching out his hand for the dime. Slowly, Bobby moved his hand to give the man his dime. Could this be true? No one else would give him a thing for his dime! Sensing the boy's reluctance, the shop owner added, "I just happened to have some roses on sale for ten cents a dozen. Would you like them?" This time Bobby did not hesitate, and when the man placed the long box into his hands, he knew it was true. Walking out the door that the owner was holding for Bobby, he heard the shop keeper say, "Merry Christmas, son." As he returned inside, the shop keepers wife walked out. "Who were you talking to back there and where are the roses you were fixing?" Staring out the window, and blinking the tears from his own eyes, he replied, "A strange thing happened to me this morning. While I was setting up things to open the shop, I thought I heard a voice telling me to set aside a dozen of my best roses for a special gift. I wasn't sure at the time whether I had lost my mind or what, but I set them aside anyway. Then, just a few minutes ago a little boy came into the shop and wanted to buy a flower for his mother with one small dime. When I looked at him, I saw myself, many years ago. I too was a poor boy with nothing to buy my mother a Christmas gift. A bearded man, whom I never knew, stopped me on the street and told me that he wanted to give me ten dollars. When I saw that little boy tonight, I knew who that voice was, and I put together a dozen of my very best roses." The shop owner and his wife hugged each other tightly, and as they stepped out into the bitter cold air, they somehow didn't feel cold at all. Unknown.

After I found this story, and without me even mentioning it to him, Sugar Daddy brought me home a dozen red roses. The only time I've ever gotten flowers from Sugar Daddy is when I've given birth. I don't recall giving birth in recent days, so I guess he was just inspired. It makes this story that much more special.

Ha Bum Hug

What day is it? Monday, the what, 7th? 8th? I don't even know. And from the looks of it around here, you can tell I don't really care. We have a total of zero Christmas decorations up. Yep, zero. Zilch. Nada. This isn't for lack of intentions. I've been meaning to get them up for weeks now. It just hasn't happened. Let's face it, I don't feel like hauling up that heavy box from the basement. That's what the menfolk are for. And my manfolk has been AWOL for the last few days. Between work, church stuff, Christmas partying, and DVR, the time to do it has eluded us.

But there is a more sinister reason behind my slacker ways. You may recall that I don't like Christmas much, and that is what sparked True Meaning Tuesday. It's hard to want to play the role of a Holiday lover when truly I'm a total Scrooge about it. I know, I suck. Another reason is that we leave for Utah in a week and a half, and we'll be there for 2 weeks. Do I really want to decorate for the 10 days we'll be here? Not really. And I certainly don't want to come home from Utah after all the celebrations there, and have to take down Christmas stuff I never wanted up in the first place. Do you see my logic here? I knew you would.

What's a mom to do? I'm thinking tree, minimal other decorations, and it all comes down the night before we leave. Sound like a good compromise? I thought so.

Fun For Friday

I don't know if this counts as "fun" exactly. Below is a snapshot of my Oregon Scientific thermometer. The top number is the outside temperature. The middle is the inside temp, the bottom is the time of day, and below that is the date. You will see it is today's date and time. But please notice the outside temperature. And this is without the wind chill. Yeah. Not so fun.


So what is the coldest temperature you've ever been in? And where were you?

Have a great weekend!

Sugar Daddy's Day

Happy Birthday to you, my dear Sugar Daddy. There are so many things I love about you, so here are just a few.

• You can fix anything.
  
• You watch "Ice Princess" just to see the ending.
  
• You have an immense love for jackets and coats of all styles.
• You snore like a fog horn.
  
• You are always thinking of the girls and I, and ways to make our lives easier.
  
• You take out the garbage cans every Thursday.
  
• You like your sleep time.
  
• You can make friends with just about anyone.
  
• You do all the ironing.
  
• You love me and the girls more than anything else.
  
• And we love you too!
  

Have a great day!

There's also a sweet blurb about Sean over at Terrill's blog, so you can check that out here.

Remember That One Turkey?

Sugar Daddy kind of dropped the ball on our Thanksgiving dinner. After being asked by moi several times to go and pick up a turkey, he "forgot", and Sunday morning decided he could just run to Jewel and pick up a fresh one. Ha! Yeah, I knew it. I fully expected him to return empty handed, or at the very least, with a rotisserie chicken. But he went all out and purchased this here beauty. A fully cooked, yes you read that right, fully cooked, whole turkey. Vacuum sealed for freshness, and caramel color added for appeal. Mmm, caramel color, my fave.

So here we have the beginning product. Yes, it's a Butterball. That was my only hope of it turning out half decent, I've always had good luck with a Butterball.



Here it is in all of it's bagged glory. Why a bag you ask? I really don't know, except for that is how my mom always did hers, so that's how I do mine. No basting, it always turns out juicy, and it's just the way it is. Obviously I need to spring for the bigger roasting pan, as my scale of turkey to pan is a little off.



Here you see the temperature set at 320. The instructions say 350, but my oven is a total over achiever, and likes to cook a little hotter than it should. So I have to compensate. And you also see the timer set at 1 hour and 46 minutes. It should be 1 hour and 45 minutes, but I overshot it a little. I usually do this when I top off my gas tank too. I always get that 1 penny over. Dang penny. Also, I apparently have no use for that "Auto Clean" button. For I have never to this day cleaned any oven I have owned. Perhaps I should.



And here is the lovely finished product. Looks okay, right? The caramel color seems to have done a nice enough job. The juices were flowing, and the meat was tasty. I can honestly say I was pleasantly surprised. Like so pleasantly surprised, that I'm thinking about going and buying another one to freeze and keep on hand just in case. For .89 a pound, it's not a bad deal. And considering that we've eaten turkey in some form or another for 3 days now, it's pretty economical.

So even though Sugar Daddy had to change up our routine, he proved me wrong, as usual, and came out on top. It ended up being a nice, simple, fairly easy meal to cook, and I was happy to be all together as a family again. Thanksgiving just isn't the same without Sean around. Nothing is.

True Meaning Tuesday

The White Envelope

by Nancy Gavin

Editor’s Note: This is a true story that is provided to us by the family of the author. Even though Nancy passed away two years after her article first appeared in Woman's Day Magazine in 1982, her family continues to keep alive the tradition of the white envelope. This article has also inspired The White Envelope Project and web site.

~~~

It’s just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree at this time of the year for the past 10 years or so. It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas. Oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it. You know, the overspending, the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma, the gifts given in desperation because you couldn’t think of anything else.

~~~

Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way.

~~~

Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended. Shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner city church. The kids were mostly black. These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes.

~~~

As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without head gear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler’s ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously couldn’t afford. Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn’t acknowledge defeat. Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, “I wish just one of them could have won,” he said. “They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them.”

~~~

Mike loved kids — all kids. He understood kids in competitive situations, having coached little league football, baseball and lacrosse. That’s when the idea for his present came. That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner city church.

~~~

On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years. For each Christmas, I followed the tradition — one year sending a group of mentally challenged youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas — on and on... The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents.

~~~

As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure. Still, the story doesn’t end there. You see, we lost Mike several years ago due to cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. Yet Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning, it was joined by three more. Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further, with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation, watching as their fathers take down their envelopes. Mike’s spirit, like the spirit of Christmas, will always be with us.

Please visit the White Envelope Project website for more information about how you can implement it in your Christmas experience

Thanks to Nurse Heidi for this story. She posted this on her blog a while back, and this is what got my gears aturning in the direction of True Meaning Tuesday. Heidi is a special friend, and belongs to a very special family. They have all seen us through some very difficult times, and have had their fair share as well. They are all the kind of friends that only come along once in a lifetime.

Thanksgetting

I heart Thanksgiving. I really, really do. I love the day before Thanksgiving almost more than the actual holiday because of our super fun family tradition of dinner and a movie that evening. Picture it; a family of 20 or so, half of which are kids, crammed into Applebee's, spilling chocolate shakes, sending back undercooked steaks, and raising the decibel level by at least 20. Then we head to the movies. Remind me to tell you a story of the family accusing us (oops, my bad) of sitting in their seats, even though they were 15 minutes late, and the theater was less than half full. They just couldn't make the mental jump and take other empty seats. Geniuses , I say. Okay, so that was pretty much the story. Now you don't have to remind me. We also had a girls only sleepover at my inlaws, and all the girl cousins stayed up waaayyy too late, and laughed too loud, and had to wake me up at 4 in the morning to do laundry duty. Darn bottled water next to the bed. It was a good time, though.

This was a bittersweet Thanksgiving. You know, another first without Mom. It's that sick sad time line we all keep in our heads, and I'm starting to resent it. And it was less another person this year too. Sugar Daddy was here in Illinois all by his lonesome. He managed just fine, though. He caught up on his sleep, and even cleaned up the house! He's such a good husband. He did forget to buy a turkey for our Sunday celebration of Thanksgiving, though, which warranted a trip to Jewel on a Sunday for a "fresh" turkey. Remind me to tell you the story about Sugar Daddy forgetting to buy a turkey, and then getting stuck with all that the store had left, a fully cooked whole turkey. Really, I'll go into more detail about that one tomorrow, and I even have pictures.

I know Mom would be proud of our Thanksgiving, though. It was perfect. Crowded, loud, too much food, naps, football, roll ups, cheese tree, chips and dip, and lots of pies and cheesecake. And I think we all took away more than just pot bellies and L-Tryptophan hangovers. We got renewed as siblings, and as daughters and son. We learned that no matter where we are, we have fun together. We learned that Dad is stronger than we (I) thought, and that he is doing okay. We also learned that being in the temple all together is one of the most special things a family could ever experience. We're all very excited to have Josh join our family next month. I know mom would be proud of that, too.

So all in all, it was a good holiday. I always feel like I get more out of Thanksgiving than I give. I guess that's what Holiday's are supposed to be. Family, friends, fun, food, and growing a little.

Because It's Good To Have Smart Friends

Today my good friend Nikki is featured as a guest poster on NieNie. She is sharing her thoughts on her favorite past NieNie post, and she also mentions our Cancer Sucks blog from many days past. Seriously, it's good to have smart friends. And also, thanks to Clisty for her heads up. You gals are the bestest.

True Meaning Tuesday

In September 1960, I woke up one morning with six hungry babies and just 75 cents in my pocket.

Their father was gone.

The boys ranged from three months to seven years; their sister was two.

Their Dad had never been much more than a presence they feared.

Whenever they heard his tires crunch on the gravel driveway they would scramble to hide under their beds.

He did manage to leave $15 a week to buy groceries.

Now that he had decided to leave, there would be no more beatings, but no food either.

If there was a welfare system in effect in southern Indiana at that time, I certainly knew nothing about it.


I scrubbed the kids until they looked brand new and then put on my best homemade dress, loaded them into the rusty old 51 Chevy and drove off to find a job.

The seven of us went to every factory, store and restaurant in our small town.

No luck.

The kids stayed crammed into the car and tried to be quiet while I tried to convince who ever would listen that I was willing to learn or do anything. I had to have a job.

Still no luck. The last place we went to, just a few miles out of town, was an old Root Beer Barrel drive-in that had been converted to a truck stop.

It was called the Big Wheel.

An old lady named Granny owned the place and she peeked out of the window from time to time at all those kids.

She needed someone on the graveyard shift, 11 at night until seven in the morning.

She paid 65 cents an hour, and I could start that night.

I raced home and called the teenager down the street that baby-sat for people.

I bargained with her to come and sleep on my sofa for a dollar a night.

She could arrive with her pajamas on and the kids would already be asleep

This seemed like a good arrangement to her, so we made a deal.

That night when the little ones and I knelt to say our prayers, we all thanked God for finding Mommy a job. And so I started at the Big Wheel.

When I got home in the mornings I woke the baby-sitter up and sent her home with one dollar of my tip money-- fully half of what I averaged every night.

As the weeks went by, heating bills added a strain to my meager wage.

The tires on the old Chevy had the consistency of penny balloons and began to leak. I had to fill them with air on the way to work and again every morning before I could go home.

One bleak fall morning, I dragged myself to the car to go home and found four tires in the back seat. New tires!

There was no note, no nothing, just those beautiful brand new tires.

Had angels taken up residence in Indiana? I wondered.

I made a deal with the local service station.

In exchange for his mounting the new tires, I would clean up his office.

I remember it took me a lot longer to scrub his floor than it did for him to do the tires.

I was now working six nights instead of five and it still wasn't enough.

Christmas was coming and I knew there would be no money for toys for the kids .

I found a can of red paint and started repairing and painting some old toys. Then I hid them in the basement so there would be something for Santa to deliver on Christmas morning.

Clothes were a worry too. I was sewing patches on top of patches on the boys pants and soon they would be too far gone to repair.

On Christmas Eve the usual customers were drinking coffee in the Big Wheel. There were the truckers, Les, Frank, and Jim, and a state trooper named Joe.

A few musicians were hanging around after a gig at the Legion and were dropping nickels in the pinball machine.

The regulars all just sat around and talked through the wee hours of the morning and then left to get home before the sun came up.

When it was time for me to go home at seven o'clock on Christmas morning, to my amazement, my old battered Chevy was filled full to the top with boxes of all shapes and sizes.


I quickly opened the driver's side door, crawled inside and kneeled in the front facing the back seat.

Reaching back, I pulled off the lid of the top box.

Inside was whole case of little blue jeans, sizes 2-10!

I looked inside another box: It was full of shirts to go with the jeans.

Then I peeked inside some of the other boxes. There was candy and nuts and bananas and bags of groceries. There was an enormous ham for baking, and canned vegetables and potatoes.
There was pudding and Jell-O and cookies, pie filling and flour. There was whole bag of laundry supplies and cleaning items.

And there were five toy trucks and one beautiful little doll.

As I drove back through empty streets as the sun slowly rose on the most amazing Christmas Day of my life, I was sobbing with gratitude.

And I will never forget the joy on the faces of my little ones that precious morning.

Yes, there were angels in Indiana that long-ago December. And they all hung out at the Big Wheel truck stop....




Thanks to a family friend who forwarded me this email.

I'm A Winner

Look what I won over on Tip Junkie. I never win anything. But I guess I can't say that anymore.

And when you read this, I will be en route to Utah to see my family! Which is way better than winning any contest. Unless it was a contest in which I would win a free trip to see my family. That would be the ultimate.

Stay tuned for "True Meaning Tuesday", and the maiden post tomorrow.

Things I Hate

I hate that I only have today and tomorrow left to get ready for next Saturday's craft show.

I hate that I have piles of laundry on the dryer that need to be put away.

I hate having kids on anitbiotics, and repeatedly forgetting to give it to them.

I hate waking up cold and headachy.

I hate that I have to leave Sugar Daddy alone for Thanksgiving.

I hate that my dog has a uterine infection and I hate that it will cost a fortune to treat her.

I hate it when my Voice Mail light is blinking, and then there isn't even a message.

I hate lying awake stewing about life.

I hate cancer.

I hate being in a bad mood first thing in the morning.

I hate that I still have 3 more days until I get to see my family.

Things That Blow

The other day, I got an email from my friend Dubya. She is always on the lookout for a great deal, and when one comes along, she doesn't hesitate to spread the word. In this email, it said that Target.com was having a sale on a Toro snow blower. It was regular priced at $299.00 and it was on sale for....Wait for it....



$15.00!

Yes, you read right. $15.00!!! So of course I immediately hop on the net, and check it out, and sure enough, right there in print was said snow blower priced at 95% off, coming in at $15.00. Add the $25 for shipping, and I had myself a new snow blower for $48.00 including tax. Suhweet. My mind was a swirl with thoughts of Christmas presents bought with the money I would make by selling it on Craigslist. Suddenly my burden was light.

But then, a day and a half later, I received an email from Target.com, stating that it was, in fact, an error on their part, and the snow blower was priced wrong. They had canceled my order, but offered the snow blower to me for the sale price of $219. Nope. No sirree.

That totally blows.

Genes

Yesterday I finally (finally!) went out and bought a new pair of jeans. I had received a catalog with a cute cute pair on sale, so I went on over to the store to check them out, and turns out the ones on sale were elastic waist. Okay, I'm all about comfort, and I understand the need for elastic waist in certain situations. Pregnancy, post-op, post-pregnancy, and, okay, I think that's about it. Unless you're 90 years old, then due to the fact that you've lived nearly a century, you can wear pretty much whatever you choose. I would choose a house coat. And slippers. Okay, I would choose that now, but I can't pull it off like an old gray haired granny.

So I give in and buy the regular priced jeans, and a shirt on sale for $9. Score! I'm not thrilled about paying full price, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. This whole time, both kids had been with me, and had been perfect angels. No, really. Gretta is still fighting a vomiting virus, so she was at an all time energy low, which translated into her sitting peacefully in a chair while Maggie entertained her with books and stuffed animals. It was Heavenly. I proceed to check out, at which point the cashier tells me she's a Montessori trained teacher who does babysitting on the side. Always a nice thing to know, just in case.

I gather up the goods, and the children, and head outside. As I'm crossing the road and scurrying through the 15 degree air, I see a car out of the corner of my eye. I realize about halfway across the road that it isn't stopping, and is, in fact, speeding up! Speeding up! The drives swerves around us, at which point I take it upon myself to give him the old Chicago Hello wave. This prompts him to slam on his brakes, which is just what I wanted. Now I can confront my attacker face to face.

He proceeds to get out of the car, and walk towards me. He is about 5 feet tall, no teeth, and no hair, and covered in tattoos. It is a perfect juxtaposition to the beat up POS Hyundai he's driving around. So we exchange words, which went like this,

Me: "Hey! What the heck? I'm a pedestrian (not pedestrain, Jill), you should be giving me the right of way!"

Jerk: "You need to use a *^&*ing crosswalk you *^&*(). "

Me: "Do you see any crosswalks around here?" Me motioning around and pointing out the fact that there are in fact, no crosswalks.

Jerk: "Well, you need to use a crosswalk! Stupid @#@$%"

Me: "I have 2 kids here, you could have killed us! You jerk, I'm calling the police."

Jerk: Ducks quickly into his Hyundai and "speeds" away.

At this point, I'm grateful for 2 things. The fact that Gretta was in my arms and not running alone by herself as she normally would be. And also the fact that I'm medicated with anti anxiety meds. Normally a confrontation like this would have sent me into a crying fit. I wasn't even shaking. I was calm. Calm, people! That $2 a pill is totally worth it after this.

But as I drove away, still reliving the incident in my mind, I realized that I'm especially grateful for my genes. Knowing in my heart that I was in the right, and knowing that had I been on the other side of this confrontation, I would have let that mother and her children cross the street and not even given it a second thought. There is something basic and instictual about it. Being a good person is more than just waving to a neighbor, or going to church every week. It's doing what we know is the right thing.

I could have turned out like that Jerk, who obviously has no respect for women, children, or people in general. I don't know his circumstances, but most people are taught right from wrong at an early age. And yet sometimes, it just doesn't take. They still do stupid things that are common for most of us.

But thankfully I didn't turn out like that Jerk. For some reason it took on me. And it stuck. Not that I don't ever make mistakes, but there is a place in me that wants to make others safe and comfortable.

And I blame it all on good genes.