New curtains

I decided that I wanted to make new curtains for my kitchen window.  (This won't be a sewing tutorial.  If I did that, I would be able to hear the laughter from my computer from people that really know how to sew and that would hurt my feelings, I think.)

I have no problem coming up with ideas.  At any given time, my mind is teeming with ideas.  I have no problem rushing off to the store in haste and buying materials that may or may not work and may or may not be in the correct quantities.  I love that part.

I'm not actually good at sewing though.

Measuring, cutting, pinning, being accurate...it all makes me as queasy as balancing my checkbook does.  (I don't balance my checkbook by the way, I'm just using that as an example.  Don't tell my mom, the accountant.)

A few weeks ago, I was hosting a cub scout committee meeting at my house.  My friend and primary counselor, Heidi, wondered if I needed any help.  (She meant with the meeting.  I knew that's what she meant.)  I said, "Yes!  Will you advise me on my curtains?"

Because Heidi can sew.

Before the meeting I lay everything out on my kitchen table and told her my idea.  She told me she thought it would work.  She told me I had to take more steps than I was planning on taking in the sewing.  I saw that she was probably right.

Then the materials sat in a forlorn bag in the corner of my bedroom because they intimidated me.

Finally, yesterday I decided I should just sew them.  No more procrastinating.

I took a deep breath and scattered everything around on the table and started in.  I was just getting going, when Marianne called.

"I'm mad at you!" I declared.

She said, "Oh, well I was just going to give you a compliment."

"Go ahead," I said.  (I wouldn't miss a compliment if I had one coming.)

"I made your cookies and they lived up to their billing."  We chatted cookies for a while and she said, "Why are you mad at me?"

"Because you are not here, sewing these curtains for me.  You should live by me!" (Sisters have a way of spoiling you.  Even though I haven't lived near them for 15 years I feel like I'm being cheated by their lack of proximity.)

Marianne reminded me that I was the one that left and she lives within sight of our ancestral home.

Well.

Then Olivia called on my other phone and since she's been on a trip and I haven't talked to her for a week, I ditched Marianne (she told me I had better talk to the elusive Olivia and I was mad at Marianne after all) and talked to Olivia.  When I finally returned to my sewing, I just kept my head down and forged on.

They pretty much worked!  No one was more surprised than I was.

I think of my Grandma Jaynes every time I decorate my Christmas tree.  The glass bottles on my kitchen windowsill are inspired by my Grandma Dahl--those and the red geraniums on my front porch. 

They are a little wonky and crooked but when you consider that I am a person that eyeballs things rather than measures them they aren't too bad.

So I did it!  I sewed curtains.  I lived to tell the tale.  Now on to my next idea...

Just a day

Saturday was a day like many other; unremarkable.  It would most likely slip into the oblivion of unremembered days but before I went to sleep that night, I thought about little things in the day that sort of delighted me.

--I made a blackberry cobbler with blackberries Stephanie gave me.  What's better, blackberry cobbler or friends that give you blackberries?

--I went to tell Mark it was time to go get his hair cut and he and his friend Cal were reclining in Adirondack chairs on our patio.  They were sipping ice water with colorful straws and poring over Lego magazines.  A boy version of a tea party.

--Adam and I were waiting to pick Braeden up and had 1/2 hour to kill.  We went to Bartell Drugs to window shop.  I suspect Adam and I could window shop anywhere.  We looked at displays and selected what we would buy.  We guessed what we thought the other one would buy.  (Adam is very obvious and looks at what he would buy.  It makes it really easy to guess.)  I showed him how real Q-tips are superior to the store brand or Johnson & Johnson.  We took our blood pressure.  We each bought a Cascade Ice.  We could have spent another half hour there.  There were aisles we didn't even go down.  The fact remains:  I could have fun with Adam anywhere, even in a Turkish prison camp.

--I saw "the cat walker." Mark and I see him often when we are out and about.  An otherwise normal looking guy walks around pushing a cat in a baby stroller.  Saturday a woman was with him.  His wife?  I wonder if a wicked witch turned their child into a cat and they're just trying to make the best of it.

--Braeden sat down near me in the late afternoon and said, "Mom, I haven't talked to you all day!  Let's talk."

--We watched The Pirates! Band of Misfits.  We laughed a lot.  And ate blackberry cobbler.

Just a day.  But, it was a good day.

What we see depends mainly on what we look for.
John Lubbock

A field trip, following Tigger and two big boys

Yesterday Mark and I went to the Woodland Park Zoo.  It's a good place.  It's better right after school starts when the weather is still marvelous and there are no children there above 2 feet tall except Mark.  Besides a few toddlers and their mothers we had the place to ourselves.  Mark is even getting old enough/ careful enough that I'm not afraid he's going to trample preschoolers.

Bonus.

He is growing up but he maintains his attention span.  Each animal got a maximum of 10 seconds of his time.  Less if they weren't being interesting.  He is sort of like Tigger.  I followed him on his bouncy way.

A different mother may medicate the child but I like him the way he is.

How can you not love a kid who hides from completely imagined foes...

...laughs at your joke--"I didn't know porcupines could throw their quills."

"They can't, but a bear can throw a porcupine."  (from The New Red Green Show)

...climbs on everything remotely climb-on-able...

...and makes a cute turtle?

I can't think of a more enjoyable sidekick.  (Or possibly I'm his sidekick?)

We met Adam for lunch.  Zeek's Pizza in the sunshine.  Seattle pulls out all the stops for September.  What a glorious day.

I (naturally) got lost trying to make my way back to the freeway.  There's a name for people like me.  It's "person-who-shouldn't-venture-out-of-her-neighborhood." I'm sort of an idiot but I'm Adam's idiot so I called him and he guided me.

In a completely unrelated matter, here's a picture that made me smile (and brought out my picture stealing thievery tendencies--I'm Enoch's favorite sister though so I don't think he minds).

Two men I will always look up to (unless I stand on a chair).

My brother Enoch at our cousin Harvey's football game.  You don't have to have facial hair if you're related to me.  It just seems that way.

September 16

Yesterday marked three years since Adam's dad has passed away. It still seems like he should be here.  I think he's going to ring the doorbell and be here to take the kids to the pool.  Or we'll walk in their house and he'll be there, greeting us with his happy smile and making us feel welcome. 

I could spend the day crying and remembering (and there was some of that).

There was also a family gathering.  There was laughter and joking and teasing that he would have been a part of had he been there.  I think he would have liked the dessert I made.  He always loved chocolate.  He would have chatted with each of the grandkids and congratulated them on all their latest accomplishments.  He would have laughed at their jokes.  He would have applauded the dance Emma and Talia performed.  (I guess we're calling it a dance.)

We have a choice it seems.  Even though he is gone, we are all here.  We will move ahead in the manner he would have wanted.  We'll keep loving and supporting each other, teasing each other and laughing.

And feeling grateful.  It seems like a day for gratitude.  I feel grateful to have known such a man.  I feel grateful for the spectacular son he raised that is my husband.  Adam learned how to be a father from his own father and I'm not sure he could have had a better teacher.  I am grateful for the grandfather my children were blessed with.

Finally, I am grateful for temple covenants that bind Adam to his parents and our children and me to Adam.  And I am grateful for the Atonement of Jesus Christ.  Because He died for us, we can live again.  We will see Grandpa Linn again.  Of this I am sure.

If not, I don't think I'd be able to get through September 16 every year.

A significant blog post

Usually this blog is somewhere between inconsequential and trivial.  Occasionally it enters into the realm of frivolous.

Today is different.

Today I am going to write about something Important--chocolate chip cookies.

(See?  Now I have your attention.)

Over a year ago, I wrote about this.  I have been on a quest.  I have been trying to find The Perfect chocolate chip cookies.  I've tried several recipes.  I've tweaked, I've sampled, I've baked.

Here's what I have found:

The Perfect Chocolate Chip Cookies

(I know!)

I used a recipe I like and changed it a little and added oatmeal because I like them a bit more substantial.  (Especially since they march two by two into my kids' lunch bags.)  I don't take this claim lightly that these are the best.  They're good.

If you have a recipe you like better, please share.  In a world with hassles and to do lists and hard work and headstrong children and disease and laundry and dishes, at least there are chocolate chip cookies!

the recipe:

2 c. plus 2 T. flour
1/2 t. baking soda
1/2 t. salt
3/4 c. butter (melted and cooled until warm)
1 c. brown sugar
1/2 c. granulated sugar
2 eggs
2 t. vanilla (I never measure this, just a generous splash.  This horrifies Emma.  She's a measurer.)
1 1/2 c. chocolate chips
1 c. old fashioned oats (these cookies are good without the oatmeal, I just like oatmeal cookies...you could use quick oatmeal if you want a happy medium)

Preheat oven to 325.  In a mixer, combine butter and sugars, beat in eggs and vanilla.  Add the dry ingredients and beat until just combined.  Stir in chocolate chips.

I use silicone baking sheets but you could use parchment paper.  In the absence of either of those, I don't know if you should grease the pans or not.  (I never promised you good recipe instructions, just good cookies.)

Bake 11-14 minutes, depending on how big you make your cookies.

Everybody's got to do something.

picture lifted off the Elko Daily Free Press website

I wouldn't know anything if it weren't for my cousins.  Yesterday I saw on facebook because of my beautiful and charming cousin Leslie (she's one of my favorites!) an article about a bit my dad made.

There was a link to this article.

In case you're like me and don't have the attention span to go read articles when someone links to them, I'll give you the gist.

My dad made a bit. (Not big news.  It's what he did before his mission.)

Apparently though, during the Queen's Jubilee there was a celebration with riders from Canada, Russia and the U.S.  The riders from the United States were cowboys and Native Americans.  One of the cowboys took the bit, which my dad had made for the cowboy's nephew.  (Are you keeping all of this straight?  There will be a test.)

Anyway.

A bit my dad made was part of the Queen's Jubilee.

When I was in college, my roommate Jamee took anatomy.  Every time she had class, she would tell us some interesting tidbit of trivia over dinner "for our gee whiz file."

That's what this story reminded me of.  Not earth shattering, just hmm.  Mildly interesting.

Here's what I like about it and how I know they really did call my dad and get a quote from him.  He said, "Everybody's got to do something."

Growing up, my dad told us, often, that there was nothing he couldn't do.  We firmly believed him.  I still do.  My dad= invincible.  (All the men in my family have a lot of confidence.  All the women do too.  I wish I had more but it's sort of a thing with them.)

When someone other than his children would give him any sort of compliment/accolades/attention, he would deflect it and sort of shrug and say, "Everybody's got to do something."

If that's true, I'm glad part of his "doing something" was being my dad.

Also, of everything my dad created, why did a bit get to go to the Queen's Jubilee?  Why not me?

Friendly advice

Here are some pictures from yesterday:

Don't tell me it wasn't yesterday.

I swear it was.

Somehow, overnight, this happened:

They got a lot bigger (and I think a lot weirder).

My advice?  Don't sleep. You close your eyes and your babies disappear.

Also, don't decide you're going to go through the pictures on your computer and organize them.  You'll get distracted and wonder what happened to your babies.

Nobody wins.