Spring work

Our children told me they thought it was going to be spring break and it seemed more like spring work.  I feel terrible that I worked them so hard.  They had to do terrible slave labor like clean up after themselves and empty the dishwasher.  It was intense.  Also, they got to spend time with their friends nearly everyday.  Poor, poor kids.

They have it rough.

Here's what else happened:

1- I made "real" breakfasts as requested by Mark, including pancakes.

You’re not supposed to have cake for breakfast, of course, but somehow pancakes slid through. I don’t know how that happened. It’s like, “Young man you’re not having cake for breakfast. You’re having fried cake with syrup for breakfast." Now load up on that and try not to nap.

- Jim Gaffigan

2- I wrote some.

3- I learned to knit.  Besides finishing Emma's room finally (usually projects don't take me that long--it took longer because I did it with Emma...she's less of a steamroller than I am), learning to knit was the highlight of things for me.

Janet came over to teach me and Jill came over to chat.  Also, I think she was jealous of my skills.  I could tell by the way she kept laughing at me.  I think I'm getting it though!  (It helped that I also took my knitting to book club and got a little help.) 

I have developed a new knitting design.  It's called Swiss Knitting.  I know I'm pretty advanced for just learning but what can I say, some people just have talent.

(It's Swiss Knitting because of all the holes.)

Don't listen if someone tells you that the holes are where I messed up.  I won't listen either.  We'll keep believing in Swiss Knitting.

It's not just our kids complaining--Adam told me I have to do a better job on my photos on my blog because it is driving him crazy to see my bad blurry pictures.  I would say you can't please everyone but I don't think my pictures would please anyone.  So I will try to have better pictures.

(Kindly observe, there is a different between bad pictures and bad knitting.  Don't blame the photo for the above debacle masterpiece.)

Happy Easter

When Braeden was a toddler, I wondered as Easter approached how I was going to teach him the real meaning of Easter.  How could I explain the wonder of it all in a way that he would understand?

I asked my dad.

He told me, kindly, that he didn't think I could.  "He's a little young still."  He told me to wait until Braeden was older.

What I didn't realize was that I didn't understand Easter as much then as I would in the future either.

I knew the story.  I knew what happened.  I had felt deep inside that it was true.  I knew that Jesus Christ was my Savior, that He'd suffered and died for me.  I knew that because He lived again, we all would live again.

I knew all that.

Then, things happened.  My knowledge of the Atonement, the knowledge that my parents had patiently taught me, was tested.  Heartaches occurred that were nothing like the supposed tragedies of my youth (if you could see a picture of me when I was about 8th grade, you would understand the supposed tragedies I'm talking about...yikes).

Time after time, when I felt sad or discouraged or broken, I felt the healing and atoning love of my Savior, Jesus Christ.  I marvel that because of Easter, because of Jesus, we can repent, we can be forgiven, we can forgive.  We can be comforted.  We can know that when this life ends, we will live again.

And when it comes down to it, there's nothing more that matters.

May I suggest

Jill told me about Land O Lakes cinnamon sugar butter.  It seems like it's not that hard to get your own butter and cinnamon and sugar instead of buying it already formulated.

But I sort of think this stuff is magic.

It is just the right mix of everything and it's lovely and spreadable and delicious. 

delightful on bread

better on toast...so good it made the photo blurry (I should be fired from photography--also, by the time I saw the blurry picture, I'd eaten the toast.  What can you do?)

Emma's Room

Here's what it looked like before:

Here's the painting process.  (Hannah's in the first picture--she was roped into helping.)  Please notice our painting attire.  Emma is wearing an old referee shirt of Adam's...just in case she needs to blow the whistle on anything?  I, of course, match the paint.  Doesn't everyone wear the color they're painting?

I was using a projector to draw a tree on the wall.  I started plugging in cords and flipping random switches.  Emma picked up the instruction manual.  We're a pretty good team.  I make sure it moves along, she makes sure it works.

I was using the projector to get the essence, a rough outline, nothing perfect.  Emma was aghast.  "It's not exact!" she kept declaring.

"I know," I said, "It's OK."

"But we need to do it right."

"Meh," I said.

Emma was home from school, sick that day.  She finally said, "I'm going to go take a nap."

Note to self.  Emma is more compliant when she's sick.  I'll need to remember that when doing things like planning her wedding.  Try to infect her with something first.

As time passed, Emma was more on board with my haphazard ways.  She kind of has to be.

I am what I am.

I gave up on the projector and just drew the rest of the tree.  Emma helped me paint some of the tree (some of the time her friends were over and she left me on my own).  Yesterday we finished.

It was fun.  At one point, Emma smiled up at me and said, "This is great.  I am glad we are doing this."  It was pretty great to work together on a project.  It turns out in the end we collaborate just fine.  (Maybe I won't have to make her sick before planning her wedding.)

Here are some other shots of the room:

We installed magnet boards in one corner.  (And by we I mean Adam, Emma and I directed traffic.)

A pretty new room for my pretty girl.

Books I read in March 2012

Undomesticated Goddess by Sophie Kinsella***

Sophie Kinsella's books are, for me, a happy guilty pleasure.  They're not terribly substantive but they're British which I like and the characters are hapless in a lovable way which I also like.  There's always some sort of scrape you don't know how they're going to get out of and they read like a romantic comedy which I also like.  What's not to like?

Russian Winter by Daphne Kalotay****

This book was set in contemporary times as well as the Soviet Union in the late 40s and early 50s.  The history of it fascinated me.  The characters were well drawn and the plot mysterious and compelling.  It was a fictional story about a famous Russian ballerina.  A great read.  Tragic, but so good.

The Walk by Richard Paul Evans **

This book was OK.  I'm not really a Richard Paul Evans fan but we read this for book club.  It's the first in a series which is about a man who walks from Bellevue, WA to Florida.  He got as far as Spokane in this book.  He didn't walk the whole time, for the first part of the book, his life fell apart.  Then he walked.  The characters were flat...either completely (unbelievably) benevolent or completely evil.  It was a bit compelling but I probably won't go any further in the series.

Whiter Than Snow by Sandra Dallas****

I don't think I've ever read anything by Sandra Dallas that I didn't like.  This story was set during the '20s in a tiny mining town in Colorado.  There was an avalanche and each chapter is about someone whose child is affected by the avalanche.  In that way, it was a little like a collection of short stories but then the last few chapters bring everyone together.  It was a good book, though also very sad.  Is it always the saddest books that are the good ones?

Thelma Lou Switcheroo

The only difference between a rut and a grave is their dimensions.
~Ellen Glasgow

(My uncles used to call me Thelma Lou.  Maybe because my grandma is named Thelma Louise?  I don't know.  You'd have to ask my uncles.)

I do like to switcheroo.  Furniture that is.  It makes me happy.  I like moving things and cleaning behind and under them then figuring out a new spot.  I love how it feels to sit in a chair in a new spot.  I like a different view.

My mom, both grandmas, both sisters--none of them have moved their furniture except to accommodate a Christmas tree.

It's possible I was adopted.

Maybe not.

Last week I told Adam I needed to move furniture.  He looked slightly nervous and said he needed to go to work.  I said, "Not right now.  Just don't be surprised if everything's moved."

He nodded and went to work.

When he got home it looked like this.

I have no idea what kind of shenanigans my phone was up to here but it does help to illustrate the chaos that was reigning around here.

He asked me if one particular piece of furniture was going to stay there permanently.  I said, "Define permanently."

(If there's one thing about our furniture, it moves.)

He said he couldn't walk by without hitting it.  I forgot about his broad shoulders.  (How could I forget?  I like his broad shoulders.)

I told him I'd rearrange.

I also told him not to kill himself tripping over anything and that I was sorry about the state of things. 

He said, "Oh, it's fine.  I can see that it's a work in progress.  You are a creative person and this is a creative work."

Which is so nice of him.  He could have just as easily said I was a train wreck and this was a train wreck in the works.

But he didn't.

Here's how it looked before I started moving:

and...

 The end result was:

Not entirely accurate because it's a different perspective than the before picture but you get the idea.

and...

Blurry..my inability to take a decent picture is only eclipsed by my inability to care enough to try again...

It would seem that as the mother of three hearty and hale children, two of them teenagers, I would get a lot of assistance with all this moving around.

I didn't.

Braeden helped me move the loveseat which would have been impossible to move all alone and a bookcase that made the food he consumes seem worth it.  Emma helped me move one table.  Mark was sick so he just watched from a distance, sniffling.

There were conversations like this:

Me:  Emma, will you grab..."

E: No

Me:  OK.  Will you remind me how you're getting to the movie?

E: I'm driving, I know how to drive.  (Not true.)

Me:  Oh, that's right.  I forgot you have a car. (Also, not true.)

E: I'm going to steal one.  (Not true.  I hope.  She was walking toward me to help as she said it though.  She knows when she's beat.)

Braeden mostly just sighed deeply and wondered why I needed to move furniture.

It makes me feel all warm inside to have such helpful kids.  (I know they love me though...how could they not?)

Janet said my kids will talk about how crazy I am when they grow up.

Jill told her daughter, Hannah, "See, aren't you glad I'm not like her?"

It makes me feel all warm inside to have such supportive friends. (I know they love me though...how could they not?)

Change is the only evidence of life.
~ Evelyn Waugh

Pass the salt

“Eat a live frog first thing in the morning and nothing worse will happen to you the rest of the day.”

Mark Twain

This morning I am eating a live frog.  First thing.

I am going to the Department of Licensing. First thing. 

(cue scary, discordant music)

It will free me up for more pleasant pursuits.  It's spring break.  My kids are home.  Life is good.

(it will be better after the live frog)

Also, happy birthday to my dear mother.  I'm glad you were born and then I'm glad I was born, to you.