Springtime

Carter and Rozzie dancing

Having a good time...

Last Friday was really nice and I didn't have the little boy I normally babysit, so we went to the park and played. It was a beautiful day. 

Spring is here!

Harrison took this lovely one of Carter

During Spring Break, Hubby took Brennan and Bella to Mt. Hood to go snowboarding. Silly us, we forgot the sunscreen.

Here's Brennan the next day - blistering sunburn and all.

Rosalind, gesturing wildly

She wanted pants on her head, and then she wanted a picture.
???

Brennan with his favorite toy

I was out walking one day and saw this fence.

Looks like they're really trying to keep things private...

Here's the gate... and...

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High on Claritin and M&Ms

Are your allergies bothering you? I showed up for my new calling yesterday without make-up, sounding completely congested, and with a hot washcloth semi-permanently attached to my right eye. It was the only way I could be stopped from rubbing my eyeball completely out of my skull. I'm not much of a medicine taker (constant drug references to the contrary), but by 3:30 yesterday I was begging for Claritin. It didn't even work last time, but I was so desperate - I was like, KIDS! BRING ME CLARITIN! (My allergies render me helpless. I'm sure you know the feeling.)

Of course, when the Claritin DOES work, it doesn't work right away. Brennan and Bella were then sent to the nearby store for chocolate. They brought back M&Ms, which soothed my itchy itchy mouth and took my mind off the river of slime sliding through my sinuses and the fact that the Cub Scouts would have to see their new Assistant Den Leader looking like utter doo-doo.

By the time Bunny came to get Harrison and me after Cub Scouts, I was a happy camper. Actifed always wiped me out and nothing else worked - but that Claritin did the trick. For the rest of the evening, I felt no pain and thought nothing but happy thoughts. I came home, sat down, let Bluebell make dinner and finished the crocheted washcloth I started yesterday afternoon. (A little-known side effect of Claritin is the sudden urge to crochet like mad.)

This was the kicker - when the ward Young Men came by to fetch Brennan's notebook to check on the address of a nearby less-active member, I did not retreat into my bedroom in a fit of embarrassed, "Holy crap, the living room just exploded and now Brothers B. and O. think I'm a terrible homemaker" anxiety. Oh, no. I was calm, I was relaxed, I was happily unsneezy, sitting in my mess surrounded by a jury of Brennan's peers.

And my family went to Taco Bell and brought me home a chalupa. All was well in Millie Zion.

Folks, there is indeed a "happy pill," and its name is Claritin ... and for the rest of the spring and summer, I will never again be without a pack of it somewhere on (or in) my person. That, and a big bag of M&Ms.

Martha Stewart thinks I toke up

I dreamed last night that Carter's kindergarten teacher was Martha Stewart, and she didn't want me helping in the class. I asked her what was up and she said, "Well, you always appear to be... what's the word I'm looking for..."

I helped her finish: "High?"

She did that standing-right-there-with-you-but-won't-make-eye-contact-out-of-discomfort thing. "Well..." she answered, and I went ballistic. "What are you saying? Do I smell like marijuana? Are my eyes dilated? What would make you even think that?" (Not to mention, why haven't you called Child Protective Services on me yet? You crappy teacher.)

In response, she quite pointedly eyeballed my clothing. I looked down at myself; my outfit screamed "OPIUM DEN." My hair was a mess and I think I was wearing Janis Joplin sunglasses.

Oh. Well.

I also dreamed I was stung by a million tiny bees, and throughout the rest of the night, no matter what else I was dreaming about, I was picking their tiny stingers out of my fingers; I dreamed about sneaking away from Sacrament meeting to play ping pong up in the gym with a few other bored ward sisters; about going shopping for fabric with Neenaw... I'm sure there was more...

Multnomah Falls on a Rainy Saturday

We went on a little outing with our friend Timmi and her family to Multnomah Falls, one of our favorite places in the Gorge.

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Break out the picket signs! It's Conference Time again!

I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't be picking on the nice people who provide such awesome comic relief each and every Conference weekend, walking up and down the streets of Salt Lake City, trying to save us big stupid MORE-mons from ourselves.  But the naughty part of my spirit says, "Oh, come on, just do it.  Anything for the blog."

I mean, why not?  Picketing is the way to get things done.

Heaven knows, all the times I've picketed my children's dirty bedrooms, I've never been let down - they're always spotless within minutes.  When I go down to WinCo and march and chant and hold up signs saying, "Your Twinkies are too durned expensive" - immediate satisfaction.  Sometimes, I'll even get out my little finger-sized picket signs and hold them up to my scalp.  "Gray is gay!  Brown is ... what I'd rather have!"  I tell you, the transformation is amazing.

I really do wonder, though - how many Church members standing in line for Conference actually pay attention to these people?  If you took a poll of people who left the Church, what would be the percentage of people who said, "They were holding up a sign telling me I was going to hell, so I left"?

And if that's all it takes for them to leave... what kind of Church members were they in the first place?  Do we really need these people sitting around with us at ward potlucks, letting their children run up and down the cultural hall while they're eating our funeral potatoes?

Maybe these picketers are onto something.

Maybe next time we have a ward dinner, I'll picket it.  "No more hot dogs cut up into baked beans!"  "You call that thing a SALAD?"  "Just because you put cheese on your food storage barley casserole, don't think I'm coming near it without a taser and a HAZMAT suit!"

OK.  Well, enjoy Conference.  I know I will.  I just wish I could be down in Salt Lake... and I wish I could say that I had nothing but pure intentions... but...

I have a feeling that Super Soaker squirt guns would probably be involved.

"They picked him up - he was like a wet rag!"

"falagalagalag..."

 You know how old I am?  I used to listen to records when I was little.  My parents had awesome music, and my dad had a Bill Cosby comedy record called "Wonderfulness" - loved it.  That's what the above quote is from, off a routine called "Tonsils": "Ice cream!  We're gonna have ice cream!  And we're gonna eat it every night... when I get my first bowl of ice cream, I'm not gonna eat it.  I'm gonna smear it... all over my body... and I'm gonna put a green cherry in my navel... and I'm gonna be the most BEAUTIFUL CHOCOLATE SUNDAE you ever saw in your life!"

 *Applause*

JeanKnee and I were commiserating the other day about not having anything to blog about.  You know it's really true when I'm recycling old Bill Cosby bits I memorized when I was eight.

Yesterday for Spring Break, we did absolutely nothing all day.  I told myself, when it's two hours till Bri comes home, we'll get busy and clean up the house.  I always clean in the morning when I have energy, and by 5:00 the place is trashed again, so I'll just take his advice and try it the other way.  So I laid in bed and ate chocolate chip cookies and laughed and watched TV with Brennan and Bella.  I let the little boys play with the future juvenile deliquents outside.  I let Roz watch nonstop Nick Jr. and Nickelodeon.  And at 4:00...

The Great Computer Hassle of 2008 occurred.

Every time I went online, my desktop died.  All the shortcut icons, the task bar, and the "start" button just whoosh!  disappeared into thin air, never to be found again unless I restarted the computer.

Fifteen or so restarts later, I was on the phone, spending quality time with a 25-year-old Indian computer expert named Ahmet, whose wife (a former high school teacher) is four months pregnant with their first child.  Ahmet and I really bonded, due to his habit of asking cute questions like "Do you have any Indian friends?" to help pass the time.  (The answer was "No, but I love Parminder Nagra on ER.  And I have friends who love Bollywood movies.")  Ahmet likes the Backstreet Boys and Britney Spears, and the last movie he saw was <em>10,000 B.C.</em> (and the one before that was <em>Rambo 4 </em>- at which confession, I had a hard time not snickering uncontrollably).  And some singer named Glenn something...

During this monstrously long phone call, my five children were banished to my bedroom so I could hear Ahmet's little accented voice telling me to click this and click that and say five "Hail Marys" and go kill a chicken and spread its blood on my keyboard... which made it somewhat sticky... but I'm happy to say that for the moment, my computer is once again working.  The five children endured their bondage by engaging in naughty behaviors such as sneaking out my window and flipping the still-un-put-away Easter baskets and their contents around my floor.  The little sweethearts.

This morning, Bri took the big kids snowboarding on Mt. Hood, and I'm here with the three little complainers ("That's hardly ANY Rice Krispies!  How come you never give me a LOOOOOOOOOOOT!!!") and my experiment in waiting till the end of the day to do housework, in my opinion, has failed miserably... so I guess I'll go get busy...

Especially since I have nothing to blog about today...

Score-age

(rhymes with "storage")

This week being Spring Break, our household schedule has been turned topsy-turvy.  I did absolutely nothing housey yesterday, not even dishes, so it should come as no surprise that Roz is eating her breakfast Jell-o out of a green sippy cup - but with a real spoon, not a plastic one.  I'm just that much on the ball.  In the meantime, the dishwasher is swashing away, and hopefully no one else will be hungry before I can get some bowls done.  "Starving!  My kids are starving!!!"

Yes, I said "breakfast Jell-o."  If Roz knows there is Jell-o in the house, that's what she wants.  Brennan is the same way, except with meat.  He won't eat cereal or toast, but he WILL break into the frozen dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets and heat those up for his morning meal.  Such a little caveman.

So here was my day yesterday: email, shower, walk to the bank (except Frankie and her kids saw me and gave me a ride), walk to Value Village and score majorly cheap clothes-age (it's like a disease!  Someone help me!), go home, send Brennan and Bella to the mall, feed and dress the three youngest, walk to Albertsons for their two-for-one bags of chocolate chip cookies, and head up to Wal-Mart.  They had Easter money from Grannie to spend, and spend like mad they did.  Harrison and Carter are now the proud owners of a new basketball, four Hot Wheels cars, and a nifty mini-skateboard set each; Roz bought Barbie and her pooping dog Tanner, another Barbie outfit, and a red playground ball.

Value Village is AWESOME!!!  That store, it's... INCREDIBLE!  I did not know this, but Tuesdays are 99-cent Yellow Tag day.  If the thing has a yellow tag, on Tuesdays, no matter how much it regularly costs, you pay 99 cents for it.  I bought a small black lightweight umbrella for my purse (a must-have for this season's fashion) and a black jumper/jacket combo Mormon mommy dress thing, both for a BUCK.  And a pair of pants, which were $3.99.  I will be back next Tuesday for more yellow tag savings goodness, believe you me.

What I did not know about Barbie's pooping dog Tanner... brace yourself... is that you put little brown round dog food-looking things in a teensy dog food bowl, the dog magnetically sucks it into his little plastic gullet, you pull his tail and plop!  Out comes the dog food, completely undigested but looking remarkably turd-shaped, something you didn't notice when you put it in his bowl.  You thought, hey, what cute, round, brown, heavy-for-its-size dog food!  Now how does it turn into poop?  And then it hits you...

(And there, I will end it.)

After our shopping spree, we went to our church building (I still have a key!  Heee hehehhehehheheheh!!!) and played with our new balls.  I dazzled my children with my piano repertoire while they threw, shot baskets with, kicked, dribbled, wrestled over and enjoyed their new balls to the utmost.  Later, another family from the stake came and played with my kids.  A fun time was had by all.

Then Bri picked us up, we went home, I plucked a most interesting piece of mail from the mailbox (read about that on my genealogy blog, and we sped off to Wendy's to enjoy some poisonous, but still wonderfully tasty, fast food for dinner, just Bunny and me.  He dropped me at the FHC and I had more major find-age (OK, this is getting ridiculous), which I will not bore you with unless you really, really want me to - in which case, you can head over to the genealogy blog.  Because as we all know...

Genealogy is boring.

But I love it, and I had an amazing evening.  Can we say, "I heart Google"?

That was yesterday: an amazingly happy, sunny, sneezing-over-dandelions, sneaky-saving, cookie-enjoying, cousin-finding, major score-age day.

Let My Cameron Go

“He’ll keep calling me… he’ll keep calling until I come over…”

I had a dream last night that I was invited to go to a Christmas cookie exchange party with friends from church.  For some reason I was acting very rudely at the party - insulting the other women, their children, their husbands, their husband's jobs, and just generally being bratty.  One sweet ward sister tried to joke me out of it, and catching the hint, I went by myself to an empty room and thought:

"Look - don't ask me to participate in your stupid crap, if you don't like the way I do it."

I woke up and thought, hey!  What a great motto.  I think I'll go through life that way.

Then I thought, well... maybe not.  Cameron's kind of a loser.  He killed the car.  But on the other hand, he can do a great "George Peterson" voice.

(And now Ferris Bueller's Day Off is on TV. WEIRD.)

On another topic... has anyone ever checked into those real estate programs they advertise on TV, like the tax foreclosure sales guy, John Beck? The one where they flash pictures of houses for $700 and a regular-Joe-Schmoe-looking guy says, "I bought this house for $700 and sold it at market value, and now I own a tropical fish tank store that I bought from the profits"? Even at 4:00 in the morning, those advertisements sound too good to be true - but at the same time, I find myself interested in real estate investing.

I was walking home Saturday from the DAR thing I went to, and noticed a little overgrown piece of property with a tiny boarded-up house on it, and I thought, "I want that." Every time we drive down the street in a cruddy part of town, I'll see the ugliest, most neglected little pieces of property and think the same thing. My husband thinks I'm strange. It's not that I want to LIVE in them - heavens no - but buy them, fix them up and sell them, yes. I would absolutely love to do that. It's the fun of taking something crappy and making it into something nice.

That, and owning some dirt. I'm all about the dirt. For the chickens, you know.

Assistant Cub Scout Den Leader.

(new church calling)

This first one is genealogy-related, so if you'll be bored to tears, just skip it: One family on Neenaw's family tree is named Steinhilber.  The family came to the United States in 1878, when mom Lena joined the Church and brought her girls with her from Germany.  They left father Johannes and sons Johann and Adam in the middle of the night, so the story goes.

(The book is quite anti-LDS and funny - Brigham Young is portrayed as an unpatriotic, power-hungry, land-grubbing ogre, and it's from this book I learned the phrase "Avenging Angels."  Isn't that a nice thing to have included with your genealogy?  I wonder if Nephi found any fun surprises like that one.)

One of the cousins whose name is mentioned in this book, emailed me this week.  She googled her family and found my stuff on Rootsweb.  That was SUPER exciting.  Wooo hoooo... I know the Internet is true!!!

This one is slightly more exciting:  Mom and Bob went to Vegas for Spring Break.  Last night, they went to see Wayne Brady's show ("Whose Line Is It Anyway?" and "Don't Forget the Lyrics").  OK, so Wayne and his helper dude did an improvisation sketch, the one where they're acting out a scene and they ask two audience members to provide sound effects - and my mom was asked to be one of the sound effects people!  She was so excited, she called me this morning.  She says - for your information - that Wayne is really short and skinny.  She had her picture taken with him afterward and he said to Bob about Mom, "You've got your hands full with this one!"  Roseanne was also in the audience and Mom says she looks really good, like she's lost a bunch of weight.

That's it for me... have anything exciting to share with the class?

"Just Let It Go"

April's Ensign came today and it's chock full of good stuff. I'm not usually one of these "pick up the Ensign the day it comes and read it cover-to-cover" people but I did tonight, and wow, it was great. I felt peace and calm and good stuff.

 I'm staring down the barrel of a new calling, and suffice it to say, reading the Ensign tonight really helped me feel better about it. I've been feeling so guilty this week for whining and crying and ranting and huffing my less-than-stellar attitude about it, but now, I feel loved, I feel I can do this thing I've been asked to do, and as an added bonus, I don't feel broken anymore. How's that for progress? 

Sometimes my blog seems preachy to me, but then, I'm figuring out a lot of this stuff for the first time. It's exciting to see something I believe in so strongly, actually bear fruit. It's like praying to find your keys, because you've heard all your life that prayer works, so you pray and then... you find 'em! That's really encouraging. It's probably why I talk about genealogy so much. I don't really care if YOU do it. I mean, I do, but... you know. I happen to find it a really joyful and fun experience, so you get to hear about it ad infinitum. Even after we're dead and we're all hanging out in Heaven, I'll still be talking about it. Love me, love my dead people.

Anyway - this is how blogging works for me: like a 2-year-old with stomach flu. When I get it, we all get to experience it.

You're Not Recording This, Are You?

Tonight I was informed that Chevy Chase is a flaming liberal.  I don't care, I love him anyway - at least, I loved him back in the 70s and 80s, when he was cute and Goldie Hawn was hot for him and Dudley Moore was still alive.  Those were the good old days.

 Elasticwaistbandlady has never seen the movie Roxanne, so when we were on the phone and I said, "Laugh, and the world laughs with you - sneeze, and it's goodbye, Seattle!", it meant nothing to her.  But she outsang me during a Debbie Gibson song-fest, and later we joined in singing choruses of "Reproduction" from Grease 2, which she hasn't seen for a long time and still swears up and down is a great movie.  I told her my Melanie story, and said she ought to rent it just to make sure it's as good as she thinks.  It isn't.

 Mel called me on her new cell phone tonight.  We broke it in while using our Grandma voices.

"Oh honeyyyyy... just bring that ca-ow in hyeah so Cahter and Rozzeh can hayve theyeah milk.  Bosseh, keep yo' tail outta the babies' faces."

"But Grain-maw!  That ca-ow ain't pahtty-trah-ayned yit!  Whar'd ye git such a foolish ide-uh?" 

"From mah ol' daid Grandpappeh."

What - you don't talk to your sister like this?

*Wishing you a happy phone day, with a fun surprise call from someone you love*

Early 2008 Pics

Some of these were sent to us, some came from Hubby's cell phone (so they don't have a date - he just sent them to me in email one day), and the rest are kind of a hodgepodge...

Harrison played flag football this year with his good friend Austin.  Austin's dad was the coach and Hubby was the assistant coach. Harrison had fun with it. He scored a touchdown one game that was quite impressive - he had the ball, and just ran, and ran, and ran and no one could catch him.

Flag football!

Little Lady loves her dress-up stuff - most of it was new last Christmas from Aunt Kristy and Uncle Steve. We keep it separate from the other toys because she's into it every day, changing outfits...

"I am beautiful"

Aunt Kristy sent this Utah cheerleader outfit for Bella years ago and we're glad to see it getting more use.

Go Utes!

Harrison and Carter riding one of the coin-operated cars at the mall... Carter looks quite serious...

Someone caught Rozzie taking a nap

zzzzz

Tawnee sent me these.

Kiley and Zane

Zane

Hotter Than a Flaming Armpit With Tabasco Poured On It

I've declared Saturday to be "SIBM" (Stay In Bed Mom) Day.  I just have to remember to switch positions periodicially, because my back is now unhappy with me.  Maybe I need a new mattress (*ahem* cat peed on it *cough*).

"And what do you do in bed all day?"

Oh, nothing, really... let Bunny take the kids to whatever superfluous sports crap they're doing that day... tickle any children who make their way into my room... have my three-year-old bring me cookies for breakfast and lunch, then rub her feet till she falls asleep... and watch lots of trashy, trashy TV.  I figure this is my reward for my oppressive, stressful weekdays of diligent blogging, and slaving over my ancestors.

Which brings me to my current topic: I finally caught Casanova today, and can I just say, PURRRRRRRRRR.

There are no chickens here

Just kidding

I had a dream last night that I was going to leave my husband for fat and drug-bloated Jeff Daniels.  He's not really fat and drug-bloated (that I know of), but he was in my dream.  He was even carrying little baggies of pills under his shirt.  In the dream I was thinking, Bunny, Shmunny!  Some rich guy who doesn't love me wants me to enable him to death while I spend him flat broke?  Why shore!  I'm up for that!

I felt slightly guilty when I woke up (of course) but later thought, this is one of those dreams that Carrot's always having.  This means something.  This is important.

I think the dream meant that I don't think I deserve good things.  Or it could mean that I ate too many cookies the night before.  It's anyone's guess.

Sabbath Day, or Hippie Lettuce Day?

"Gun control is for wimps and Commies.  And let's get one thing straight - guns don't kill people.  I do."
- Gun-totin' old geezer on UHF

So I'm sitting in Gospel Essentials with Frankie, whose baptism date is in less than two weeks, when talk turns to the Garden of Eden.  First we talked about Adam and Eve's transgression of eating the fruit, and how a transgression is different from a sin ("It's like murder vs. manslaughter"). 

There in the Garden, Adam and Eve were unable to have children, but on the upside, they were able to enjoy the Garden without a bunch of whiny, snotty, pants-soiling little hangers-on.  Also, fruits and vegetables burst spontaneously forth from the ground without the need for rototillers or fertilizer.

"Did marijuana grow in the Garden of Eden?" came the question from the guy in front of me (we'll call him "Brother M-J").

*Nervous tittering from class members and a big smile from our teacher, Brother B. - Frankie's head went WHOOSH, she turned and looked at me so fast*

"Hey, Heavenly Father said everything here has a use.  Marijuana has a use," I bravely offered.  "You know - hemp.  You can make rope from it, clothes from it..."

"You can smoke it," Brother M-J said. 

"I really don't think Heavenly Father meant for us to smoke it." 

"Well, I think he did."

You know, now that I think about it, that actually explains a lot about Brother M-J.

Presentation: Utah

In February, Harrison's class had a special program where each child gave a presentation about a state he had chosen. Here's Harrison singing about the fifty states with his class. Their teacher, Mr. W., accompanied the kids on the guitar (waaaaay cooooool).

Cute singing guy

Here's Mr. Bear up in front of his class, giving his presentation. He did a great job - we were impressed at the way he spoke so clearly, looked at the audience, and presented his material. I was even more impressed that he had absolutely no help from us to complete this project. He did it all at school.

YOU BROKE IT

Hubby broke his ankle playing basketball at church on President's Day weekend... Poor Bri, he had to drive himself to the clinic praying all the way that he wouldn't pass out, since I was at home with the kids and he had the car. Mr. Tough Guy wore his boot for all of about five minutes. He won't even admit he broke it - he called it a "slight fracture" which I'm pretty sure is the same thing as a break.

Doesn't look "slight" to me.

January 2008

Harrison in his new Christmas Sean Alexander jersey

Rozzie, Bella, Harrison and Carter in the car at the mall

Carvy passed out on the couch, with half of Mommy

Hippie Brennan ("I'm not a hippie!!!")

Bella on the loveseat outside the Family History Center

Shave?

Getting a little sloppy with the squirty whipped cream.