. . . just a little bit of quirky-ness

Random Photo Friday--devotion and drawings

2012-01-27T06:48:00.000-07:00

This is how Eric and Heather pass the time during the vast majority of Sacrament Meeting these days:

Dog by Eric, spiky punk dog hair by Heather.

To be honest, I love it. I get uninterrupted listening time and I get to watch fascinating creations in progress, while Heather is quietly and happily entertained. I think Eric enjoys it as well. Win-win-win!

Last week Eric drew an adorable giraffe, complete with spots and those little horn thingies they have on their head. Unfortunately, before the meeting ended a bunch of invisible "bad guys" came out and Heather was forced to hide both the giraffe and a pig behind a wall of brown crayon scribbles. It was hard to me to see that happen, but when it comes to bad guys, we all know that no sacrifice is too great.

Being a Mom is the Bomb

2012-01-26T05:45:00.000-07:00

(I never used that phrase when it was popular, so I'm using it now? What's that all about?)

These are a few of my favorite things . . .

Saying "Punch it Chewy!" to Heather as we're making a quick right or left turn onto a busy street. (gotta love that automatic transmission!)

*

Wrapping Heather up in a big fluffy towel after bathtime, holding her on my lap, and rubbing her all over to help her warm up.

*

Dancing. Dancing as we clean the house, dancing to get wiggles out in the evening, dancing (chair dancing) in restaurants and dancing (in deserted aisles) in grocery stores. I used to dream about dancing with my kids long long long before I had any hope of kids. The reality is everything that I imagined and more.

*

Putting my cold hands on Heather's neck or tummy after I've been out in the cold and saying, Niceandwaaaarm! as she squirms and resists me. Nothing like a good old-fashioned teasing now than then, huh?

*

Playing you-sing-one-word-I'll-sing-the-next games with Heather as we're running errands in the car. Our current personal favorite is "Christmas Bells".

*

Cuddling on Heather's bed at the end of the day, singing the requisite two songs, followed by the nightly negotiation for "just one more, mom, please?"

*

The way Heather will come up to me sometimes and say, "You're such a good mom to me."
Does it get any better?

I think not.

Christmas Report--the Southern Utah Aftermath

2012-01-24T08:09:00.000-07:00

As you may have noticed, every year either for Christmas or between Christmas and New Years, we travel to Cedar City. Here are some of my favorites from this year's adventure.

Favorite Event #1--The sleepover of the year: My mom (crazy lady and stellar grandmother that she is) agreed to host a sleepover for pretty much all the grandkids. My dad (stellar man that he is) endured it all without complaint (as far as I know). The girls slept downstairs (and are pictured here) and the boys slept upstairs. Unsurprisingly, all the kids had a hard time settling down for the night. So, to help with that, Uncle Robert sat with the girls and told them a story about an elf community, where each of the elves was uncannily similar to one of the girls. Meanwhile, Aunt ShaLiece (Uncle Robert's wife) was upstairs with the boys, telling them a story about a bunch of Smurfs, where each of the Smurfs was uncannily similar to one of the boys. What are the chances?

Now THAT is what I call a Princess Pack!

The best part of a slumber party is a morning television pajama party the next day.

Favorite Thing #2-The knives: My mom & dad gave us all two Cutco knives each for Christmas (as well as some cold hard cash). I have been coveting my mom's Cutco knives for about fifteen years now. So, having my own little collection is a pretty big deal.

This isn't necessarily a favorite thing as much as it is a paparazzi moment. On the right is my brother Mark, the man whose phone alarm goes off every night every five minutes between midnight and twelve-thirty, driving his wife crazy. You would think he would just reset the alarm and save his marriage, but here's the thing: He doesn't know how. And yet, there he is, a man with a self-proclaimed technology disability, using his own Ipad to access files on a network miles away.

But wait! Who is that on the left of Master Mark? The girl exhibiting the Corry/Willis tongue, (proving that it is a nurture trait, rather than a genetic nature trait). Could it possibly be? Why yes, it's the quilting blogger sensation, Melissa Corry of happyquiltingmelissa.blogspot.com! Well folks, this is quite an honor for us all to see Melissa there. Word on the street is that she rarely comes out of her sewing room for anyone but her kids these days, and yet there she is. What a rare treat. I just might be able to sell this picture for big bucks.

(Lest you think this is just me, doing a little in-blog advertising at your expense, the fact is, Melissa went from zero to over 1,700 followers on her blog in a matter of 18 months. She gets around 40,000 hits a month, and has quilt pinners madly pinning her pictures and links all over pinterest.com. Sometimes I like to tease her about being such big stuff. Like now, for example.)

Speaking of Master Mark, Favorite Thing #3: The first night that we got there, once the kids were in bed (being lulled to sleep by stories of elves and smurfs), we grown-ups sat around the living room for several hours for the traditional laughing and chatting fest. Mark kept trying to tangle the yarn I was using, taking it to a new level of stealth by initiating a complete floor contact army crawl from the room behind me. You definitely had to be there, but I laughed until my sides ached.

Kami loves to have her picture taken.

Heather, generally not so much. Kami is a obviously a good influence.

Favorite Thing #5-The skit: My sister dropped off her children for a few days while she and Ryan moved their possessions to their new home in Arizona. Once I realized that Marian (leader of all things theatrical) would be around, I specifically requested a cousin-produced skit. That might have been a mistake. Having all the cousins together, while lots of fun, meant that there were far more opinions and feelings to meld in the production than has ever been the case before, and it resulted in a four-hour planning session that netted two different skit ideas, several hurt feelings, and no final decision. Eventually, the kids were given a deadline (one family had to go visit the in-laws), and within 15 minutes decisions were made, and a skit was performed that had us all in stitches. Isn't it nice to have a happy ending?

Kami is astonished at Doug's video recording of the infamous skit.

Favorite Thing #6--Eric: I always love watching the nieces and nephews interact with Eric. You know he's a great husband and father, but honestly, he's a pretty awesome uncle as well. It's probably not the case, but I like to think that his "coolness" gives me a little "aunt capital" as well.

Love this shot. What is better than ice cream and drooling over Uncle Eric's computer creations? Nothing I tell you! Nothing!

Favorite Thing #7-Success! I defied Mark and his yarn-tangling attempts and finished this beauty.
(Okay, so that wasn't exactly a favorite thing. It's more an excuse to put this picture up. I'm obviously quite pleased with how it turned out.)

Favorite Thing #8--Kami: As the fourth of five children, and being recently unseated by baby Josie, Kami is always on the lookout for grown-up interaction and attention. At nearly three years old, she's also in prime Charlotte-friendly age. It's a perfect combination. Add all that to the fact that Kami was born within hours of my own birthday, and perhaps you can see why this girl holds a special place in my heart.

Mac & Cheese: It's a documented fact that this is the preferred lunch of fairies throughout the land.

Princesses too.

Favorite Thing #9--Shopping with ShaLiece. We ditched the kids and braved Wal-Mart on the 27th, looking for good Christmas deals. (and we found some too--extra large totes for $4! Can you say yarn storage??) For the life of us, we couldn't find my car in the parking lot when we were done. What a sight we were, pushing these extra full carts from one side of the lot to the other, giggling at the insanity of it all. Have you ever noticed how many white Camry/Sonata/Accord shaped cars there are these days? It took awhile. We swore we'd never tell anyone, but obviously I can't be trusted with that good of a story.

Favorite Thing #10-The chaos. As you know, life with all of us in the same house gets loud. And crazy. And overstimulating. And so, so, fun. Between games and activities, and eating and jokes, and chats, and storytelling, and just all the living that goes on, it absolutely combines to be a highlight of life.

Lucky, that's us.

Christmas Report--the Day

2012-01-23T07:53:00.000-07:00

I didn't take very many photos on Christmas Day, because I was too busy enjoying the novelty of having a kid in my own home, a kid who wasn't a niece or nephew, and a kid who really "got" Christmas for the first time ever. Oh my goodness, why didn't anyone tell me that would be so much fun?

(Okay--lots of people told me it would be so much fun. They were right. One hundred percent right.)

If you look on Heather's indext finger, you can see "the ring that will live in infamy."

After we opened presents (I got a jar of raspberry vinegar from Santa --a definite indulgence at $8 for a small bottle, and a beautiful necklace from Eric, among other gifts) and played a bit, it was time to gussy up and get to church.

Church was lovely. As you will remember, Heather spent the hour telling anyone who would listen about the ring that Santa Claus brought her.

After church, Eric took a (well deserved) nap, and Heather and I watched the Winnie the Pooh movie that Santa had brought. Afterwards, we went out to Grandma and Grandpas for Christmas Dinner and some additional present opening. I took no pictures whatsoever. As usual (and as expected), it was a glorious time.

As night approached, we hopped in the car and went back home. We wanted to catch up on our sleep, because the next day we were heading to Cedar City for even more present opening, and even more cousin time. Does it get any better?

Tune in later to find out!!!

Christmas Report--The Eve

2012-01-21T08:15:00.000-07:00

As you know, we spent the morning of Christmas Eve playing (freezing) in the canyon. After a lunch of Mexican food, Aunt Donna and Uncle Steve came over for some pre-Christmas clothes opening. They also left two other gifts, with instructions that they should be opened after Santa came.

Then, after a quick nap and some time to change and gussy up a little bit, it was time to meet the rest of the Cantwell family for our Christmas Eve Extravaganza!

We had a delicious dinner, some great conversation, and lots and lots of playing by Heather (next to mom and grandma, and maybe grandpa and dad, cousins are Heather's absolute favorite thing in life). Then it was time to gather for the traditional nativity scene enactment. With two infants, we had actresses who could have been ideal for the Baby Jesus role, but all things considered, their mothers were understandably concerned about leaving their precious babes in the hands of children who might have been more concerned with whether or not their bathrobe-esque clothing was on tight enough than whether or not said baby would be hitting the floor at any point in the production. (Can you say run-on sentence?) So, we used a baby doll instead.

Before Grandpa started reading the scriptural narration, I took the opportunity to get some individual portraits of all our participants.

Shepherd Nate

Cecily as the Coy Cow

Sheep Heather

Exuberant Angelic Eli

There were other participants as well (Joseph and Mary, for example), but they aren't pictured here, due to some possible privacy concerns.

After the scene, costumes were put away for another year, and we spent some time singing and listening to Christmas Carols together. Some of our nephews are becoming quite accomplished pianists, and we were treated to renditions of "Frosty the Snowman" and "Oh Holy Night" which were particularly impressive.

And then, it was time to head home, where we put Heather to bed, and where Eric eventually ended up staying up until 2:00 a.m., putting together the kitchen for Santa Claus.

But you already know all about that story . . .

Robot Hero Guardian Archive: File # 112011

2012-01-19T06:17:00.000-07:00

So, over Thanksgiving (yes, I'm a little behind on videos), our Robot Hero Guardians did some major work together on their attack and defense plans. I was able to get this particular plan archived.

You should know that Spencer was rather hesitant to let me film this plan. However, Eric assured him that he often has me take videos of his robot intelligence and records, so he can keep them in his files. Once Spencer learned that, he was much more amenable to the idea of sharing it with me.

You should also all know that this video is encrypted in such a way that if you are not 100% human, you will not be able to view it, and will only see blank lines and hear a shrieking fingernails-on-chalkboard-sound that will blow out your eardrums immediately.

So, if you are an enemy robot or dragon, you do not want to click on the "play" button.

You got me?

Okay.

Humans, please enjoy.

Brigitte

2012-01-15T20:23:00.000-07:00

I've been wanting to write this post since just before Christmas. As often happens, life got in the way. The thoughts and feelings haven't gone away though, and I'm glad to have the time to write it out now.

Every Christmas for nearly thirty years now, there comes a time, generally when I am listening to Christmas music on the radio, or sometimes on Christmas Day itself, when something happens that reminds me of my friend Brigitte.

I expect that will be the case even more now.

Brigitte and I became friends in elementary school. We were in the same 4-H group, we shared classes together, we camped together, we shared crushes and secrets and sillinesses, sleepovers, and all the other things that young girls share. And then, around the time that school started for our eighth grade year, Brigitte told us all that her mother was getting married, and they would all be moving to El Paso, Texas.

They moved on Christmas Day.

I remember going over to her house for one last visit on the day that she left. We mainly hung out in Brigitte's living room with two of her step-brothers-to-be, chatting about this and that. We were listening to the radio and complaining about the fact that there wasn't anything on any station that wasn't Christmas related. We wanted to listen to our favorite pop tunes, a little Debbie Gibson or Cyndi Lauper perhaps, but instead it was all White Christmas and Feliz Navidad. SO Lame.

Is it funny that this is the only real memory I have of that visit? I'm sure we talked and laughed about other things. I'm sure we exchanged addresses, and I'm sure we hugged each other when it was time to go. I don't think I cried then, but I remember lying in bed that night, thinking about how far it was to El Paso, and crying & crying.

I wouldn't see Brigitte again until I was 40 years old. We wrote back and forth regularly for years and years though. Again (still) we shared all the details of our crushes, some secrets, some of our deeply held thoughts and feelings. Our life paths ended up being fairly different. She went to UTEP, I went to SUU. She got in involved in theatre, I got involved in SIFE (Students in Free Enterprise). She married a great guy and had three great boys, I went on a great mission and got a graduate degree (that put me on the path to my own great life). Eventually our letters got more and more sporadic until they stopped completely.

Thankfully, due to the (sometimes mixed) blessing of Facebook, we reconnected again. By then, Brigitte's eldest son was one of the stars of his high school marching band, and I was a mother to a brand fresh baby girl. Once again we kept track of each other, this time through status updates and photos, as well as quick notes here and there. Some time ago, I read with concern that she had contracted Bells Palsy. Then, quite a bit later, she shared the unhappy news that the Bells Palsy had been a misdiagnosis, that her symptoms had been caused by a malignant tumor on her saliva gland. So hard.

Brigitte determined to go through her surgery and treatment at the Huntsman Cancer Center in Salt Lake City, where she would have the support of family (her mother having moved back to Utah in the intervening years), and access to cutting edge medical care. That afforded me the opportunity to visit her without the difficulty of air travel and lodging issues, and I took advantage. We set up the date, determining to meet at the Huntsman on a "chemo morning", giving us the ability to visit for several hours while Brigitte sat hooked up to IVs delivering the cancer-fighting medicine.

As I contemplated the visit, I was a little bit apprehensive. It had been well over twenty years since I had seen Brigitte, and our lives had taken very different turns. She had endured major surgery on her throat, making her voice raspy and sometimes difficult to understand. I worried that we wouldn't find anything to talk about, that we wouldn't be able to understand each other, that it would be an awkward situation for me, or (more importantly) a painful one for her. I did take some comfort when a mutual friend from the old days determined to join us, but then I worried that it would be the two of us talking, while Brigitte sat there mutely, a third wheel or something.

As usual, my fears turned out to be completely unfounded.
(When will I ever learn?)

I arrived in the infusion center (a few minutes ahead of our friend, whose name is Becky), where Brigitte was waiting for me. I recognized Miguel (her husband) from the pictures that we had exchanged over the years, and Brigitte introduced us. I was immediately impressed with how solicitous he was of Brigitte, as well as the love and respect that they obviously shared. Brigitte and I chatted easily and comfortably, catching one another up on the events in our extended family, reliving some old times and good memories, and sharing a few thoughts. Soon Becky joined us, with additional memories that had slipped our minds, and another perspective that made the whole situation that much more enjoyable.

I remember at one point, realizing that the tables had turned, knowing that although I had gone to the hospital in hopes of raising Brigitte's spirits and giving her courage for her fight, the reality was that the more time we spent together, the more I felt myself being buoyed up by Brigitte's honest caring and love, as well as her good heart. It surprised me, made me feel a little bit guilty, and a whole lot more grateful.

All too soon, the multi-hour treatment had ended and it was time for Brigitte and Miguel to meet with one of her oncologists. I left the hospital feeling mostly calm and at peace, but at the same time wondering what twists and turns Brigitte was in for health-wise, and how everything would shake out.

There isn't an easy way to say this. A few months later, I received word that things weren't shaking out well, and a few weeks after that, on December 21, Brigitte passed away.

As I've watched Brigitte's facebook wall fill up with comments and condolences by people I never have and probably never will meet, it's been sobering and difficult, but at the same time encouraging to realize that all these people knew the same Brigitte that I knew, even all these years later. Her generosity, love, kindness, sincerity, and compassion are a common thread that continues to run through all the contributions, and encourages me to strive for the same.

I think back on a letter exchange that Brigitte and I had, back when we were in high school. At the time Brigitte was not attending LDS church services in El Paso, and I had (hopefully tactfully) asked her why she had made that decision. When she wrote back, she said that when she had attended her LDS ward, she had felt very keenly that the others her age didn't really want her there or like her. So, eventually she determined to go where she would find more acceptance.

To be clear: In telling this story, it is not my intention to point fingers or pass judgement on anyone involved. I wasn't there, so I have no business saying anything about that part of it.

The story is on my mind now because I find it incredibly heartening to know that a girl who had the experience that Brigitte described, grew up to be the woman that Brigitte was. From all that I can gather, as well as from my own personal experience, Brigitte is a woman who will be remembered for the unconditional love and kindness that she shared wherever she went and with whomever she met.

If there's a better legacy to leave, I don't know what it is.

Although I do have some (very blurry and old) pictures of Brigitte in my scrapbooks, I lifted the two posted here from her facebook page.

little culinary gifts

2012-01-12T15:11:00.000-07:00

I've got two posts in the works, one with pics of Christmas Eve and Christmas, and one that is requiring me to think and be a little more aware of how it might be read, (primarily because I'm hoping/planning to send it to the spouse and mother of a good friend of mine, both of whom--to my knowledge--aren't regular readers here).

So, in the meantime, I'm referring you to this post on making salad in a jar, and this post about making almond butter.

I tried both last Saturday with magificent results on both fronts.

How often does THAT happen?

I ate one of these every day for the last four days. Mmmm-mmmm!

This little jar of deliciousness has made everything from sandwiches to naan to bananas taste new and exciting.

See y'all soon.

decibel danger

2012-01-09T06:26:00.000-07:00

So, when I write about our trips down to Cedar City, where we generally spend several days over the holidays in fabulous compound living with my siblings and their (multiple) children, do you ever wonder what a typical slice of that sounds like, looks like, feels like?

Well wonder no more!

Did you notice that Eric was the only adult down there who was not either narrating the event or part of the (one-woman) film crew? Yeah--glutton, that guy.

Can you tell that I adore my family? Man, do I ever.

Random Photo Friday--Bedtime Reading

2012-01-06T08:14:00.000-07:00

Current Bedtime Reading Selections in the Cantwell Home:

Mine:

Reader's Digest

The Book of Mormon (occasionally I check in with the other two books in the volume as well)

Sarah's Quilt (Sequel to These Is My Words)

Thin For Life: 10 Keys to Success from People Who Have Lost Weight and Kept it Off

Eric's:

A Short History of Modern Philosophy

Unnatural Selections (a Far Side Collection)

The Book of Mormon

An Intelligent Person's Guide to Philosophy

Thunderbolts' Caged Angels (a graphic novel, otherwise known as a bound collection of comic books in a single series)

Complete Tales & Poems of Edgar Allan Poe

I don't really know what more I can say about this. I think it's interesting that Eric has both the lightest reading and the heaviest reading in his stack. (Unless you consider Reader's Digest lighter than comics and cartoons, that is.) I also think it's interesting (but reassuring as well) that we have one book in common, and it is the Book of Mormon.

Other than that, I just think it's kind of fun. Maybe I'll do this again in 6 months or so. We'll see.

chestnut, walnut, or ebony?

2012-01-04T06:38:00.000-07:00

To get the full effect of these, it will be helpful to know that when I was a little girl, I thought my mom had black hair. As it turned out, (and as I learned when I saw her standing next to my Aunt Rebecca, who had/has much darker hair) my mom had really dark brown hair, until a few years ago (maybe more than a few), when it got to be salt and peppery.

something along these lines maybe (my mom is the "mom", in case you can't tell). (oh-and don't judge our outfits or our hair styles--it was the 1970s)

Yesterday, as Heather and I were taking Eden home (after their first friend sleep-over ever!), we started playing "I spy", to make the ride go faster. We took turns spying trees and cars and signs and car seats and coats, and various other items.

Then, this little exchange happened:

Eden: I spy something dark brown
Me: My hair?
Eden (incredulously, as if I'd just said something very ridiculous): No! Not that dark of brown!

(It was my purse that she'd spied.)

Immediately after Eden's turn, it is my turn to choose something to spy.

Me: I spy something black.
Heather (quickly and excitedly): Your hair?!?

(It was Eden's overnight bag that I'd spied.)

* * *

Too bad I don't have a little sister with really really dark brown/black hair that I can stand next to.

Baby, it's (freaking!) cold outside.

2012-01-02T06:19:00.000-07:00

Since we weren't going to be sledding up at the Corry Cabin this year (seeing as how we were having a Cache Valley Christmas, and the Corry Cabin is on Cedar Mountain), Eric and I determined that we needed to have our own Christmas Eve Day tradition. So, we went up the canyon for a little adventuring. It was chilly (I had forgotten that you don't necessarily get out of the shadows in Logan Canyon until you make it nearly all the way to Bear Lake), and Eric and I were freezing pretty much the whole time. But Heather had a grand time, and we had a grand time watching her have a grand time. So, it was all just grand.

Want proof?

Cheese, glorious (frozen) cheese!

Army crawl. Heather's idea.

Eric beats Santa in popularity, and the Kitchen Caper

2011-12-31T14:12:00.000-07:00

I've been playing. Christmas was great, the after-Christmas trip to Cedar was great, coming home has been great. Starting back to work on Monday is sure to be great.

(Okay--now I'm just getting delusional. One can hope though, right?)

I have a few future blog posts bopping around in my head, but today is not the day that they will make it here. Hopefully soon. In the meantime, here are two funnies from the past few days.

* * *

On December 23rd, I found this on my facebook wall, posted by my brother Jacob (father to Spencer, of Robo Hero Guardian fame):

(You will of course remember from a previous post that Nader is Spencer's little brother, won't you now?)

Jake Corry
My conversation this morning at breakfast
Me: Nader, guess who's coming in two more days?
Spencer: Uncle Eric?!?

Sadly, Jacob had to inform Spencer that it was just Santa Claus that would be coming in two more days. Uncle Eric wouldn't be arriving for three and a half.

* * *

Towards the first part of November, after watching Heather beeline it to the toy kitchens at Eden's house, Becca's house, and the Sperry's house (where Eric home teaches), Eric and I determined that we'd all be well served to purchase a play kitchen for Heather this year. I eventually determined that it should be a nice one, one with a little substance, one that wouldn't look too tacky in our living room, one that wouldn't break within the first year. One that wasn't plastic. So, Eric did a lot of research on-line, looking for one that would satisfy me, and my (semi-unrealistic) price range. We found one we liked. This one, in fact:

Unfortunately, we couldn't find one that wasn't on post-Christmas delivery backorder. We looked everywhere on-line and in bricks and mortar stores, all with no luck. Then, I happened upon a lovely little on-line store called Jacob's Room. They had the kitchen listed as being in stock, for a killer price, and I liked the idea of the store (it's basically a family memorial to a child who died much too soon.) We purchased the kitchen, and hoped for the best. Two hours later I got a phone call, and a real live person speaking perfect American English left a message that our kitchen was on back-order (shocker!) and wouldn't be delivered before Christmas. However, she stated, the manufacturing company was offering a different kitchen, same color, bigger, with a bar and stools, listed at $50 more than the one that we wanted, and they would charge us our original price, and ship it the first week in December. It was our choice, we could either get a refund, stay with our original purchase and receive it in January, or get this new bigger kitchen.

We chose the bigger one.

About a week into December, we got an e-mail from the same woman at Jacobs Room. She told us that the manufacturer had found that they would in fact, be able to ship our original kitchen if we still wanted it, and asked us which kitchen we would like. We chose the original (for space reasons). It shipped out, and we received it, in a long box, a few days later.

Whew!

Christmas Eve came. We spent the morning in the canyon (more on that another day), the afternoon and evening with aunts and uncles, and put Heather to bed at 8:00. I puttered around, filling stockings and setting out Santa gifts, while Eric prepared to start the kitchen construction. (Which really means that Eric took a nap. In retrospect, I'm soooo glad he did!). Almost as an afterthought, I threw a pink plastic ring in Heather's stocking.

Around 9:00, Eric started work on the kitchen assembly. At 11:30, I asked him if he wanted some help. He had me screw in some handles here and there, and hold a door or two. At midnight, as I was propping my eyes open, not wanting to withdraw my moral support, he told me I could go to bed. At 2:00 a.m., Eric stumbled into bed, the gleaming awesome kitchen downstairs and ready for Christmas joy.

Christmas morning was the best we've ever had. There were screams of delight and joy and happiness as fabulous gifts were opened and opened and opened. And then we all gussied into our Sunday clothes and went to church. At church, Heather was asked multiple times by multiple people what Santa brought her. In every case, her answer was resounding, proud, and thrilled, as she told person after person what her favorite (and only remembered) Santa gift had been.

"A ring!"

Poor Eric.

Don't feel too bad for us though. The ring might be what Heather reports, but the kitchen is getting plenty of use. In fact, mere minutes ago, as I was putting Heather down for her nap, she informed me that I can look forward to a dinner of steak and pancakes as soon as she wakes up and gets back in that kitchen.

I can hardly wait.

Random Christmas Goodness

2011-12-24T05:26:00.000-07:00

Here are a few random fabulous shots (fabulous as as in, what they document is fun. Let's be clear, the photography isn't the least bit fabulous) of our life lately:

If this had been an ornament, I would have put it on the ornament post. I picked this up on a cruise to Mexico. I love it.

Heidi and I splurged for Disney on Ice this year. Good times.

Hanging out, waiting to meet Eden and Heidi for a little mom-daughter date.

The anticipation mounts . . .

Oh joy! Oh rapture! Eden's here!

I cut my hair. I kind of miss the long locks now, but primping went from a 15-minute job to a 5-minute job. Besides, I have the fastest growing hair of anyone I know. So, no worries.

We made another batch of gingerbread cookies. These are lower fat, and nearly as delicious. Google "Low-fat gingerbread cookies, skinnytaste blog" for the recipe.

Obviously Heather dressed herself again on this day.

Only my own family members will get this, but it amuses me to no end to watch Eric turn into my own father more and more each day. Grandpa Glasses? Really? The guy is 39 years old! Next thing you know, he'll head to the city dump and bring home a pair of gently used work boots for his first-born daughter. (Don't ask.)

"twirling"

I skipped the tamales and did plum jam for neighbor/work gifts.

And spiced nuts for home-teachees.

All in all, a very good holiday.

Random Photo--Retirement PSYCHE! edition

2011-12-23T07:22:00.000-07:00

On our way home from cutting down our Christmas Tree, we stopped in Parowan, where my dad showed us his new office.

The sign was waffling in the wind a bit.

"But wait!" I hear you saying, "Didn't your father retire about six or seven months ago?"

Well, kind of.

As it turned out, around the time that my dad was retiring, there was a clinic in Parowan (a small community about 25 minutes north of Cedar City which happens to be the town in which my dad's mother was raised) that found itself doctor-less. If they didn't get a doctor, the clinic would have to close, leaving the rest of the staff unemployed, and the city under-served doctor-wise.

So, after a bit of cajoling, my dad spent two weeks after his retirement lazing around, doing whatever he wanted, and then he started back to work. It's not as bad as it sounds. It's basically a part-time job. He works three days a week, something like four or five hours a day. So, not a bad gig, overall.

My favorite part of this story took place last July. I was at the Corry Reunion, and I overheard my mom explaining the whole situation to one of my dad's cousins. As she told him the string of occurrences, and got to the point where she explained the two week retirement followed by the job, the cousin (whose name happens to be Corry) stated oh so succinctly, and oh so accurately,

"You know, most people consider that a vacation, rather than a retirement."

Indeed.

Uno mas Robot Hero Guardian

2011-12-21T08:20:00.000-07:00

Eric's Laptop, Black Friday, 2011

It looks like it might only be a matter of time before Nader (Given name "Kristian", elongated to "Kristian-ater", then shortened to "Nader") joins Spencer and Eric, entering the ranks as a Robot Hero Guardian in training.

Speaking of Nader, he is single-handedly responsible for me playing about one-thousand games of Uno over the Thanksgiving break. We played seven-card Uno, five-card Uno, one-card Uno, Stack Attack Uno, and one or two other variations that I didn't really catch. I enjoyed it most of the time, and I always enjoyed watching him sneak over to grandma's cards, hide them behind his back, and casually saunter over to me anytime I was not actively engaged in something else to ask if I'd be interested in a game. Word on the street is that his own set of Uno cards will be on the way to him soon, via the North Pole.

(Admit it--that title is brilliant wordsmithing, no? I'm amazing!)

Ornament Show and Tell

2011-12-19T08:05:00.000-07:00

This one is more for my own personal historical record than anything else. Please don't feel obligated to read through to the end.

My Christmas tree is not a home decor item. It's more of a big ole structure of memories and sentiments. You might remember that during my single years, I did a lot of traveling. I would often purchase Christmas ornaments on these travels, so my Christmas tree is a hodge-podge of travel treasures, as well as gifts from people that have been important to me.

So, for example:

I got this lovely mini disco ball at the Liberace Museum in Las Vegas. It cracks me up every time I hang it, remembering how we (a previous boyfriend and I) nearly died laughing two or three distinct times while going through that museum.

This trio of sweaters was handmade and given to us a few years ago by Eric's sister. They are one of my very favorite ornaments. This year they've been particularly helpful, as they've filled in a previously-un-noticed gap in the front of our tree.

(Heather apparently determined that this angel and this Matryoshka doll needed to share the same space). I have six of these little Russian Matroyshka Dolls. The paintings on the front of them show some of the tourist attractions in St. Petersburg, Russia. I got them on a trip to St. Petersburg (obviously).

This ornament was purchased when I went to Disneyland with my sister and her family (and my parents) about a month and a half before Eric and I got engaged. Sometimes when I unpack it, I remember stealing away from the rest of the family to talk with him on my cell phone between the two parks there. Ah, young love. What a fun memory.

Here's a better shot of the ornament.

This gingerbread house was given to me by my then-roommate, Lyn. Lyn would often give us ornaments that had symbolic value for the year. During the year that I bought a Dodge--oh man, I am so funny I am killing myself here!* truck (me? A truck owner? It was a bit of a mismatch.) she got me a red truck ornament. This ornament was in homage to my gingerbread house fiasco that year. (I haven't attempted a gingerbread house since.)

This was an etsy trade last year. I have two more just like it. I like them because they are made of clay, and to me, they look like they have come out of a Dr. Seuss book, maybe even The Grinch Who Stole Christmas. Heather says that this is her favorite ornament for some reason, but think she secretly likes the Donald Duck ornament better.

Eric and I picked this up in Chinatown on our Honeymoon. Every year I quiz him to see if he remembers where it came from. So far, he's gotten it right 100% of the time. I think that's a good sign.

These next two I picked up on a trip to Rome that my mom and I took. I bought the first one, not realizing that I would find, and fall in love with the second. I love them both.

This angel was given to me by one of our summer conductors at the opera festival. She came back to Logan the summer after I got married (as she had for the previous 10+ years), and as she was leaving town at the end of the summer, she presented this to me, saying that I seemed so much happier that year than ever before that this angel had reminded her of me. It's a happy memory. (I warned you that this would be sentimental) Ironically, Eric can't stand Willow Tree figurines. He things they're cheesy and tacky and everything that is wrong with the world. However, Eric doesn't get a say in our Christmas tree, so there she is, year after year.

I collect angels (can you tell?) I got this one at Epcot Center on a trip I took with some (awesome) girls several years back.

Heidi (who knows and indulges my angel-collecting) gave me this ornament the first Christmas after she got married. I still remember her presenting them to me, Tayneshia, and Brandy, as we sat in Tayneshia's living room, eating take-out food and watching (critiquing) American Idol. Good memories.

I have about 20 of these. Only four or five made them on the tree this year, but I like them. My mom gave them too me years ago. I think they add a homey-ness and color to the tree.

This is one of my favorites. This was also given me by a co-worker from the opera. For many years now, Chris has been coming twice a week to help keep our building clean and trash-free. He's a sweetheart, and I adore him. The back of this tag gives a reminder to think of the sands of Galilee. The other side of the tag though, with the loving message is by far my favorite part of the ornament.

For some reason this one posted sideways. Oh well. I picked this up in the Bahamas, when I was on a cruise with my friend Tayneshia.

My dear friend Kami gave me this Santa sculpture ornament one year.

I picked this up on a trip to New York that Heidi let me take with her. She had a conference there for work, and had a nice hotel in a safe area of town all to herself. I would have been an idiot not to jump on that opportunity. This was the same trip where I was pick-pocketed of my drivers license, my ATM card, and one of my credit cards and then got them all back, making me (in the words of the N.Y.P.D. officer who helped me) the luckiest tourist in all of New York. (There was about $100 in Subway passes charged to the credit card, but still--pretty darn lucky.)

Picked this one up in Flagstaff, Arizona on a trip to Grand Canyon with my parents, two of my brothers, one sister-in-law, and one niece. Since that trip was made, that niece has been joined by three sisters, and the single brother has gained a wife and two kids.

I picked this up at Hobby Lobby at the after Christmas sale two years ago. I also have one that says "Love" and another that says "Noel".

This one is also a favorite. It was given to me years and years ago by an opera volunteer/patron. She didn't really have any family to speak of, and one year she went to the Holy Land and brought back these olive wood ornaments for all of us in the staff. (At the time, the staff consisted of five full-time people, about half of what it is now.)

And here we have the finished product, our 2011 Christmas tree in all of its glory.

I like how Heather seems in awe of it. Really, this photo was totally posed. On the day we decorated, after we were all done, I asked her to go over and look at the tree for me, and she did. It took me a few tries to get her in just the right place, where she didn't block the tree, but was still clearly visible.

*To truly appreciate what a comedic genius I am, you'll have to read the first three comments on this post. BTW, it was a Ranger. A Ford Ranger, thank you very much.

It's Frozen Over

2011-12-16T06:44:00.000-07:00

Just to be clear--no one paid me or gave me any kind of incentive to write this post.

I joined a gym this week.

You are now reading the blog of one of the newest members of Planet Fitness.

"But wait!" I can hear you asking, "I thought you couldn't stand the gym!" "I thought you were an outside exerciser, one who was too cheap to pay gym fees, and one who didn't like the 'being checked out' feel of the gym." "What about all of that, Charlotte?"

To which, I give the following explanations:

Winter has come to Cache Valley. As I learned last year (painfully), winter is a time when the roads and sidewalks around my home often feature a little invisible devil called black ice. I fell last winter no less than four different times, one of them while I was crossing a busy street, surrounded by cars that may or may not have been able to stop in time to avoid running me over if I hadn't been able to scramble/crawl to safety. (My mom isn't going to be happy when she reads this. Neither will Eric's mom, come to that.)
Last year, (after the four ice disasters) I took to doing staircase workouts or living room yoga workouts on icy days. However, this year, her little highness has taken to waking up and hunting us out as soon as she hears anyone stirring in the house. This makes it very difficult to get a morning workout in, and so far, "exercise time" on those days has been quickly reduced to "converse with (which really means 'listen and explain to') Heather time".
Additionally, last week we got a coupon in the mail, offering a full year of membership at Planet Fitness for $99 total (plus tax), as long as it was paid in advance. No monthly fee, no sign-up fee, limited access to a personal trainer for no additional fee. That works out to $8.33 per month, which I consider a small price to pay, when you figure I'll be avoiding more ice-slips, and be able to exercise without the constant "Why's?" of my precious princess who I love more than life itself.
And finally, Planet Fitness bills itself as a "Judgement Free Zone". At first I scoffed at that, but now that I've had a bit of experience there, I must say, it's a very comfortable place to be. I've seen a pretty equal amount of all body types and age ranges there, from people who are practically kids to people that are probably great-grandparents; and people who have bodies that I dream of having, to people who might dream about having a body like mine. In short, I don't feel like people are checking me out, or well, at the risk of using the cliche, judging me. I like it.
Also, this particular gym is probably about a half-mile from my house. Bonus!

And there you have it. I never thought I'd do it, I never thought I'd say it. The older I get, the more often that has been happening. Next thing you know, I'll own an i-phone, and be tweeting my every move to everyone I know.

(Naaaah, that couldn't possibly happen.)

(Right?)

photo courtesy of ario

evergreen delight

2011-12-14T06:57:00.000-07:00

Like many small families with both sets of parents within driving distance, we alternate Christmas and Thanksgiving between our families. This year was a Corry Thanksgiving year, and will be a Cantwell Christmas. (Although we will probably travel down to Cedar City for a few days between Christmas and New Years.)(And, for my siblings/nieces who are reading this, "probably" means "definitely", but I don't want any of the crazies who are jealous of our fabulous worldly possessions to read this and know when exactly they will have the best chance of being able to help themselves to our stuff.)

Corry Thanksgivings generally carry the added benefit of the harvesting of a real Christmas tree from the family land up Cedar Mountain. This year, that was looking iffy though. In October a huge landslide took out the main road, and the most convenient alternate route is generally not plowed in the winter.

Fortunately, it turned out to be an unusually dry November in Southern Utah this year, making it so the road was passable by my father and his trusty ~~Ford~~ GMC truck. (EDIT: Jacob pointed out that my dad doesn't have a Ford anymore. Upon further fact checking consisting of a call to said father, I discovered that he traded in the Ford for a GMC over three years ago. Who knew?) So, the day after Thanksgiving, we hopped in the truck with my parents and made our way up the mountain. It was a little precarious at times, between ~~idiot~~ inexperienced out-of-state drivers stopping in the middle of slick one-lane roads to have conferences, and at least one large tree that had fallen across the road, but we made it all right, and when I started to get nervous, I took comfort in the fact that Eric has magnificent upper body strength, and my dad is no slouch either, reassuring me that we would be able to get out of any scrapes that might have come our way.

In short, we found a great tree, and we had a great time. Does it get any better?

This year Heather has a love affair with the taste of snow. I've tried to dissuade her, and I still put my foot down at the stuff that's been on he ground for more than a day. However, sometimes I just don't have the fight in me, and all I can do is make sure that it's white snow that she's eating. (I worry a little, but the fact is, I was exactly the same way, and eating snow all winter never caused me to be any worse the wear.)

thirty-nine

2011-12-12T07:45:00.000-07:00

We celebrated Eric's birthday last month.

(I always like it once Eric has his birthday, because for nearly 4 months, our ages are only one year apart instead of two.)

We celebrated by getting take-out from Eric's favorite restaurant, (we were going to eat out there, but after the workday, he was more interested in a night at home than a night among random restaurant goers.), and lemon meringue pie.

And of course . . .

Presents!

This is not a present. This is the explanation of the present. Eric brought three of these lamps into our marriage. He loves them. He loves how you can move the "light arms" around to shine the light wherever you want it to go. We have one in our living room and two in our bedroom, one on each side the the bed. To be honest, I'm not all that impressed with the aesthetics, but I have become absolutely converted to the function of these fine lamps.

Anyway, ever since we got married, Eric has mourned the fact that he has never been able to find more lamps like this. He thinks back fondly on the day that he found them in the first place, and it seems that he regrets not purchasing an extra one (or seven) at the time.

So . . .

When a few months ago, Heather and I chanced to see these guys on clearance . . . well, I felt like the gift giving stars were finally shining down on me in kindness and mercy.

We bought two.

Turns out, Eric didn't really wish he had purchased seven. One of these boxes is in the attic, waiting for the day that he really really needs it. The other is up in the man-room, still in the box, unassembled. Ah well. That's how it goes sometimes.

(And now we know why Eric buys his own Christmas presents.)

The more appreciated present (which was also my idea) was this:

Eric is mad for Edgar Allan Poe. I'm hoping to have him read out loud one of the stories sometime to me. Eric is a masterful out-loud reader. I'm thinking The Cask of the Amontillado might be particularly spookily entertaining. (Whose birthday was this again?)

(Note: Eric also received some cash for the big day. Obviously that was his favorite present.)

too kind

2011-12-10T12:28:00.000-07:00

It's been awhile since I received a blog award, so getting one earlier this week was kind of a treat.

Tasha gave me the Liebster Award. Apparently "Liebster" means "Dearest" in German, so that's kind of fun.

So, now that I've got the honor of this award, I'm to do the following:

Copy the award onto your (my) blog.
Thank and link to the person that gave it to you (me) (Thanks Tasha!)
Forward it to 5 bloggers that have less than 200 followers.
Comment on those 5 blogs, to share the good news.

Here are my recipients for this award, in no particular order:

Heather at Plenty of Porridge: Here Heather posts semi-random pictures and thoughts of things that are "just right" in her life. A little pick-me-up, if you will. I like it.

Marc & Liz at Marc & Lizzie's Great Adventure: Liz is a friend of mine from almost 20 years ago. She and her husband took off around six months ago to see the world, and man, did they ever! This blog chronicles their adventures. They're back home now, so who knows if this blog will be updated more, but even if it isn't, the past posts are pretty darn exciting for anyone who wants to see and experience (vicariously) new lands.

Teresa at Teresa Takes Charge: I love Teresa. Here she chronicles her joys, her successes, her slip-ups, and her difficulties as she strives to "take charge" of more of her life. Great inspirational reading, with some funniness in there too (and we all know how I like a bit of funniness).

Lindsey at Steve and Lindsey Corry: Lindsey is married to my cousin. For awhile we were fellow Cache Valley-ians. Lindsey and I both ended up doing the gratitude challenge at about the same time (i.e.--late), which was kind of fun. At other times, this blog is mainly a little insight into her life, and the adventures she shares with her husband as the navigate through those turns and decisions that relatively-newly-married-people experience. It's a nice little slice of life.

Midway Ice Castles: This isn't as much of a blog as much as it is an announcement, but I'm giving it the award anyway, because I love these pictures, and I really really want to see these in person this year. And, as far as I can tell, they have less than 200 followers.

And there you have it! My pics for the Liebster award. Tune in next week for a new Robo Hero Guardian, a photographic spectacular of us getting out Christmas tree (if I manage to get that post finished), and whatever else strikes my fancy. You won't want to miss it!

Heather and Eric dressed in their respective favorite colors, up Cedar Mountain, November 2011

Random Photo--semi-silent inhabitants edition

2011-12-09T07:32:00.000-07:00

Here are some of the residents of the Cantwell home that just don't get the press that Eric, Heather and I do.

Minnie, Raggedy Ann, and Bert, you surely already know. That girl in the middle is Baby Pepper. Baby Pepper is a talking doll . Sometimes she is banished from naptime, because she is just so darn talkative. Other times she joins us for Family Home Evening. When that happens, she usually gets the honor of choosing either the opening or closing song. Baby Pepper's favorite songs are "I Love to See the Temple", "Popcorn Popping on the Apricot Tree", and "I Am a Child of God."

Baby Pepper and Baby Harriet (previously known as "Harain" or "Harang", but often known as Baby Princess Belle) trade-off being the preferred doll around these parts. But, NO ONE competes with puppy. Not now, probably not ever.

Jam vs. Tamales--the holiday battle

2011-12-08T06:41:00.000-07:00

My mom made this advent calendar for me years ago, long before I had a child for whom counting down to Christmas was a big deal. I grew up with one in our home, and taking the ornaments out of the pouches is one of my favorite childhood memories.

Random thoughts on the season:

Every year around the first of December, I think to myself, "Oh good! It's Christmas music time!" And then, by December 5 or 6, I've had it with Christmas music for the year. Weird.

Setting up the Christmas tree without fail (so far) puts me in a good mood.

Heather and I made gingerbread men on Sunday afternoon. I didn't take any pictures, so you'll just have to trust me. I think it was the first time I've made gingerbread men in my whole life. We used the recipe on the back of the molasses bottle. It worked out marvelously.

Not that this has anything to do with Christmas, but I've found that those recipes on the back of the box/jar/can/bag are generally winners. It shouldn't be surprising really, but sometimes it surely is.

Eric bought the bulk of his Christmas last week. (A drill press. I don't even know what a drill press is or does. We have the box unwrapped, sitting under our tree, and looking at it, I still don't know what a drill press is or does.) He likes to buy his own presents, because he doesn't want to take the chance that I will buy him something he doesn't really want and "waste" the chance to get something he does want. I'm okay with that, because I don't love trying to figure out what he wants. I on the other hand, like to be surprised. Eric's okay with that though, because he likes trying to figure out what I'd like, and (let's be honest), as long as it's wrapped up and isn't clearly something he's buying for himself and giving to me, I'm super easy to please.

(I don't know if Eric realizes this, but the fact that he makes the bed every morning probably means as much to me as any gift he could give me.)

(Eric is not a bed-maker. He doesn't like it, he doesn't see the point of it. He does it for me. That's love.)

(I still want Christmas gifts though. It's not like you can unwrap a made bed.)

This is the first year that Heather has been old enough to care about the advent calendar. I am loving the whole process of taking the new ornament out of the pouch every day with her.

I haven't decided if I'm going to make tamales this year or not. Part of me wants to, and part of me just doesn't want to go through the work and make the mess. Also, when I was in Smith's last, I looked for the Maseca for Tamales package, and it looks like they don't even carry it anymore. I didn't have it in me to go to the Latino market. (I was still suffering from the after-effects of the flu/cold that hit our house.) Is that a sign?

Luckily, I made a whole bunch of plum jam a bit ago, and can give those jars out, if need be. Truly, wouldn't you rather have a jar of plum jam than a tamale? (Please say yes.)

Glorious Grand Junction--Part Three (and Final)

2011-12-06T19:57:00.000-07:00

The day before Heather and I headed home, we all carved pumpkins.

This picture cracks me up. What planet are these kids on?

This one is somewhat better:

And finally, proof that I was there too.

That concludes our account of the trip to Glorious Grand Junction. Thank you, and good night.

only three

2011-12-05T12:17:00.000-07:00

I hate to admit it, (and I know this will come as an absolute shock to many of you), but sometimes, I get unreasonably frustrated with Heather. As much as I would like to think that I am a perfect mother, one whose feathers never get ruffled, one who is always calm and serene and sees the big picture of how important the job of caring for this fragile and loved child of God is, the fact is, it just isn't always the case.

Several weeks ago, Heather did something that really frustrated me. She was jumping on the couch (which is a no-no, but a no-no that is only enforced by me), and as she jumped, she inadvertently dislodged my beloved Ott Lite from the computer desk, causing it to fall to the floor, and breaking the ($30) bulb in the process. I was unhappy, to say the least. Okay, let's just be honest. I was angry. As I told Heather in a not-very-nice or patient or kind tone of voice exactly how unhappy (angry) I was with what she had done, her face screwed up in an expression of intense remorse, and she started sobbing and sobbing.

Of course, I felt terrible at that point, full of regret at my misappropriation of priorities, putting the feelings and self-worth of my daughter below a light bulb, even a $30 one. (Now, to be clear, what Heather was doing was wrong, and she should have been obedient to me. But, my reaction was not at all in proportion to her crime, and certainly anger wasn't an appropriate response on my part.) I scooped Heather up in my arms, and rocked her back and forth saying, "I'm so sorry. It's okay. You're only three."

* * *

Fast forward to last Thursday night:

Heather wanted cereal for supper (she had eggs for breakfast). Eric had poured her some cheerios, and she was sitting under the table, eating them. It had been a long day (who am I kidding--it had been a long week!), and I was tired (hence the cheerios for supper). I was puttering around, straightening up the kitchen, when I noticed Heather under the table. I told her to please sit up at the table, that we don't eat our cereal under the table. Heather got up, taking her bowl to Eric (who was in the laundry room) to ask him to pour some milk in her bowl. I asked her what she was doing, and when she explained it, told her that I could put some milk in her bowl if she would take it to the table as I had asked.

Just then, something happened, and the next thing we knew, the bowl was empty and the floor was covered in dry cheerios. Heather immediately dropped to the floor and started scooping cheerios off the floor and into her bowl, saying, "Sorry mom, it was an accident."

I sighed in frustration, and told Heather (not angrily, but somewhat sternly) that this was why I had wanted her to sit at the table with her food and not carry it around with her. Then I joined her on the floor, picking up the cheerios as well. We'd been doing that for about 5 seconds when Heather looked up at me with a fearful half-smile that was about an inch away from tears and with a quivery voice said, "It's okay mom, I'm only three."

"Right???"

I looked back at her, and with a big smile, said "Right!" The fearful-verge-of-tears look fled from her face as she grinned back at me, knowing that all was forgiven. Then we laughed as we finished cleaning up the mess.

* * *

This morning, as I was bustling around, trying to get out the door for work, I stepped on one lone cheerio from that day, and was reminded of that lesson. It's not all that profound, but in the hustle and bustle of mothering, and especially mothering around the holidays, I can use a reminder now and then that people are more important than things, and that love is more important than rules, even valid rules. Also, although I don't have a long history of mothering to look back on, I have a feeling that that it will end up being infinitely easier and better to clean up any number of messes than to have to regain the loving trust of my little girl, if I am so unfortunate as to lose it through careless angry words and actions.

This is getting more wordy than I was planning, so I'll just share one more thing along these lines.

Lately, I've found this scripture to be of particular help to me as I navigate the twists and turns of raising Her Little Highness:

No power or influence can or ought to be maintained by virtue of the priesthood, [or, in my case, parenthood/authority/etc.] only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned; By kindness, and pure knowledge, which shall greatly enlarge the soul without hypocrisy, and without guile— Reproving betimes with sharpness, when moved upon by the Holy Ghost; and then showing forth afterwards an increase of love toward him whom thou hast reproved, lest he esteem thee to be his enemy;

(D&C 121:41-43)

The part that runs through my mind over and over is that last part, particularly this: "Reproving betimes with sharpness, when moved upon by the Holy Ghost; and then showing forth afterwards an increase of love toward him whom thou hast reproved . . ."

So, not being sharp all the time, but not being afraid to reprove (sans anger) when moved upon by the Holy Ghost. But then, being absolutely sure to show extra-loving love and affection afterwords.

I think if I can get to where that kind of parenting is second nature to me, Heather and I will both be all the better for it. It's a worthy goal.

Random Photo-a narrow escape edition

2011-12-02T04:17:00.000-07:00

Heather at the Pumpkin Walk. October 2011

About ten minutes after I took this picture, I was day-dreaming a bit and was jolted back to reality by Heather's blood-curdling scream. She had put her head through one of the cut-outs too far, and had gotten stuck there. She was terrified. Fortunately, I was able to get her extracted from said cut-out, and the only long-term effect of it all was the fact that Heather went around for a few days saying, "Mom, you always want to save me, huh?"

Selective memory is a beautiful thing.

Jumping on the Bandwagon--a little late, and a little sheepishly

2011-11-30T17:27:00.000-07:00

So, you know how there are all these people on facebook and on their blogs and in general life who are taking the opportunity to share what they're grateful for this month?

Many of you won't say it, (or don't feel this way), but I will (and I do.) Not the most interesting reading I've ever done.

However, as has been established, I've definitely seen the power for good that a little gratitude can do in a life.

So, purely for my own benefit, I'm starting my own thankful-in-November list.

But wait! Rather than subjecting you to a day-by-day account of my gratitude, I think I'll just list it all here, day by day, in this post. So, if you want to read it, you'll need to scroll down to check. If you don't, you need not do a thing. Once the month is over, I'll change the date to November 30, 'cause it will drive me crazy if I don't.

And now, without further ado, here is:

Charlotte's list of fabulous blessings as of November, 2011

November 1: I'm grateful for the million-and-one recipes that are on the internet. And, I'm grateful for Google, so it doesn't take me hours and hours to sift through them. (Seriously, do any of you remember the beginning days of the internet? Search engines have come a loooooong way, baby.)

November 2: I'm grateful for blue jeans. So comfortable. So sturdy!

November 3: I'm grateful to live in an age of glasses, contacts, lasik eye surgery, insulin pumps, and relatively pain-free dental work. Honestly, I don't know how I would have survived in a pre-Novocaine world. Tooth pain is the worst.

November 4: Along those same lines of "I'd never have made it in the olden days", I'm glad I live in an age of recorded music. I mean, just think of all we would have missed out if we had lived in the Renassaince, during that time where only people who could afford court musicians could have music. Blessings, blessings.

November 5: I'm grateful to be where I am with Eric. Physically of course, but also emotionally, spiritually, and in a "we're on the same page, and we understand where the other one is coming from" sense. We've always had each other's backs, but lately, it seems like we know better how best we can cover those backs, and we're both pretty willing to make personal sacrifices to do so. It's a great place to be.

November 6: You might have to be an LDS Primary veteran to really appreciate this, but I'm grateful for those days when all those Senior Primary boys are attentive, or at least easy to settle down, making it so I can teach them a song or a principal, or bear my testimony, and it goes well, and we all learn together. Those are golden golden days, and today was one of them. :)

November 7: I'm grateful that my life is such that if I feel crappy (like run-down and with a cold) I can go to bed at 8:00 if I want. What luxury!

November 8: I'm grateful that when I do go to bed at 8:00, I wake up the next morning feeling like a whole new woman. A woman who needs to carry tissues and cough drops with her at all times, but a new woman nonetheless.

November 9: I've written this here before, but it bears repeating. I'm so grateful for my job. I work with great people, I do interesting work, and my situation there has changed to meet my needs every step of my journey from (stay with me here) almost-finished-grad student, to single-girl-who-wants-to-be-able-to-see-the-world-and-her-family, to married-mother-who-needs-to-provide-insurance-for-the-family-and-still-see-her-child-for-more-than-three-hours-a-day. Honestly, this job is a miracle for me and for my family, and I'm blessed to have it.

November 10: I'm grateful that some mornings, my alarm clock, rather than being a pleasant but boring ring on my cell phone, is the tap (sometimes a semi-forceful whack!) of a little hand, followed by an excited, "Good Morning, Mom!" Definitely a nice way to start the day.

November 11: I'm grateful for my office space heater. Enough said.

November 12: Today I drove too and from Salt Lake City. During the time that I was in Salt Lake, Logan had kind of a biggish storm. Luckily, I beat the storm going down, and it had been cleared out by the time I came back, giving me smooth sailing in Wellsville Canyon both ways. Soo grateful for that.

November 13: I'm grateful that if something cold and icy, and heavy to shovel must fall from the sky each year for about 5 months in order for us to have sufficient water to make it through the other 7, that the stuff that falls has the magical capability to make everything it touches look breathtakingly clean and beautiful.

November 14: This morning, we had a few extra minutes before we had to do the mad dash out the door to start the craziness that is Monday. Heather wanted to snuggle, so we did. A little slice of Heaven. Naturally, a little slice of Heaven is always something for which to be grateful.

November 15: I'm grateful that when I was eleven years old and jealous of my girlfriends who were learning how to knit, my mom taught me how to crochet.

November 16: I'm grateful for my Eric. That he was born, that he found me, that he loves me.

November 17: I adore being a mother. That's probably in large part because I adore my little girl. Seriously, if I had known how much I would love her, I would have been soooo much more distraught about it all back when I was in those waiting years. So, in addition to being grateful for Heather, I guess I'm pretty grateful that back then, I didn't know just how much I would love her.

November 18: I'm grateful for a smallish house--one that I can get close-enough-to-presentable in about an hour, if I need to.

November 19: I'm grateful for the hundreds of volunteers that work so hard at Bountiful Baskets. I'm tempted to say that our participation in that organization has been life changing. That might be going too far, but it has certainly drastically changed the way we eat around here--for the better.

November 20: I'm grateful for the normalcy and unchanging-ness of Sunday. I'm glad to know that every time Sunday rolls around, I'll be putting on a dress, giving Heather a little bit fancier-than-usual hair style, and that we'll all be going to church. I'm grateful that there's one day a week where we don't spend any money. I'm grateful to be able to take the sacrament, and spend three consecutive hours learning about Christ, thinking about Christ, and feeling more closely aligned with Christ.

November 21: I'm grateful for answered prayers, and the courage and patience to wait in the meantime.

November 22: I'm grateful for nieces and nephews. Specifically, I'm grateful for thirty-two of the kindest, most humorous, cutest, grandest kids that have ever come to this fine earth. And, I'm grateful that they put up with me & my quirks, and especially Eric and his quirks. (Truth be told, I have a sneaking suspicion that many of them love Eric even more than they love me. Blasphemy!)

November 23: I'm grateful for Picasa and the blogger over at Clover Lane who taught me, nearly a year ago, how to put together my own blog header, using my own pictures. It's been a year of fun for me, and I have no intention of stopping anytime soon.

November 24: I'm grateful that, after 7 (or possibly more, I didn't really keep track) or more years of living in obscure and well-known cities all over the country, my brother Jacob and his family have finally settled in Cedar City, right where they belong. I'm also grateful that my brother Robert and his family have settled in Cedar City. I'm also grateful that although I didn't follow the trend, nearly every one of my siblings married people from Cedar City, meaning that if they are visiting their in-laws, they are in the same town as my parents. One stop holiday visiting, a big old Corry party a couple of times a year. Soooooo convenient. (And awesome. And delightful.)

November 25: I'm grateful for all of you that come here from time to time. Not to play favorites or anything, but I'm especially grateful for those of you who humor me by snapping stone lions pictures throughout the world.

November 26: I'm grateful for the mountains of Utah. Particularly the mountains of Southern Utah, since they feel like "home" to me, but really, I think most who have seen them will agree, all the Utah mountains are quite spectacular.

November 27: This one is too long for this little list. Go here.

November 28: I'm grateful for my father-in-law. He comes through in the crunch time and time again. He does it without complaint, and then thanks us for giving him something to do. He's a salt of the earth guy, and I am blessed blessed to have him.

November 29: I'm grateful for the Musical Annie. Specifically, I'm grateful that Heather will watch it from beginning to end when I really need a break.

November 30: I'm grateful to and for the people who inspired me to make this list.

image courtesy of eekim

Gratitude MY EYE!

2011-11-29T12:41:00.001-07:00

Remember how grateful I was for getting home safely on Sunday?

Well, I still am.

However,

In the less-than-48-hour-time-period-since-we've arrived home, we've had stomach flu, (All three of us. Eric is still down for the count (but improving), I am inching (well, probably more like "yard-ing") my way back to health. Naturally, Heather is fully recovered and full of energy.) The handle of our kitchen faucet broke off (but at least I can still turn the water off and on using Eric's trusty needle-nose pliers), and, as I was using my last bit of strength to heave a load of laundry in the machine (I'm always amazed at how fast the flu can make it pile up), the knob on the washing machine broke off. (fortunately, I can jerry-rig that for now as well.)

I'd complain about the car being in the shop, but really none of us are driving anywhere, so the one car we have is more than enough for our needs.

I'd cry if I wasn't laughing so hard at the 'what-are-the-chances' of it all.

(Plus, my pioneer ancestors are reading this (Not really. I'm sure they have better things to do) and shaking their heads at me. Faucets and washing machine knobs? Charlotte, you poor poor baby!)

Now, if you'll excuse me, Heather wants popcorn for lunch. Today I'm in no position to argue.

this gratitude entry deserves its own post

2011-11-27T21:12:00.001-07:00

It's Sunday evening. This morning, we woke up in Cedar City, and we are now home, safe and sound, in Cache Valley. That's been the case for about 3 hours now. We left Cedar City around 10:30 this morning, after attending Sacrament Meeting in my brother's ward. Heather has a runny nose (making it so she wouldn't be welcome in nursery), and the older I get, the more antsy I am about going through Sardine Canyon after dark, particularly in the winter months. So, we hopped in the car, choosing not to stay for Sunday School or Relief Society/Priesthood meetings.

We drove the car to Fillmore (about two hours from Cedar City, and three-to-four from Cache Valley), where we stopped to get some food and have a little bathroom break. As Eric went into the store, he left the car running, with Heather and I inside. After about 5 minutes, I smelled something burning, like plastic or rubber or fluid or something, and turned the car off. I rolled down the windows to see if the smell was coming from a car around us, but that didn't seem to be the case. When Eric got back, I told him about it, but the smell was gone by then, and everything seemed fine, so we continued on our way.

We stopped again in South Salt Lake (about one and a half hours south of Cache Valley) to fill up with gas. I took over driving at that point. As we were headed back on the freeway (which required multiple turns due to one way streets), I noticed that the engine and clutch seemed to be acting kind of weird. I chalked it up to the fact that I haven't driven a stick shift in around six months, and determined that is was a driver error (mine) rather than a mechanical problem.

I got on the freeway, and it seemed that the car was laboring more than usual. I chalked that up to the fact that we had a Christmas tree on our hood (pictures and report on that coming), and so our wind resistance must have been causing our car to slow down.

We got off the freeway at Brigham City (around 30 minutes away from home), and started on the highway through the canyon. As we climbed the mountain, the car started to rev and rev. I would take off the gas, and things would be okay, but as soon as I put my foot back on the gas, the rpms would shoot up again. People were passing us like we were standing still (we weren't--we were going 55 mph), and I was flashing back to the good old college days that I'd had in the canyon in my trusty three-cylinder Geo Metro. Finally, I started smelling that smell again, and as I looked out the back window, I seemed to be putting out some really black smoke. There "just happened" to be a perfect pull-out spot right where I was, and I pulled over to a large area of dirt, one that had plenty of room for several cars, and one that is fairly rare in the canyon. I woke up Eric and told him that I thought something was wrong.

Eric hopped out of the car and lifted the hood to take a look. There was smoke coming from under the hood. Not a whole lot, but enough. We called Eric's dad (Wayne), who told us to check the oil. Eric did, and found that it was low. (However, the smell was more along the lines of transmission fluid than oil. Not that I would know the difference, but both Eric and Wayne made that determination.) Wayne hopped in his car and drove the 30-40 miles to bring us some oil, which we put in the car. We tried to start the car then, and it started fine, but when Eric tried to put it in gear, the gearshift would go, but the car wouldn't move forward or backward or any way at all.

So, I got on the phone with our insurance company, who sent a tow truck out to us (one of the services we get for no additional cost as part of our monthly premium). Meanwhile, Eric and Wayne unloaded all our things from the back of our Subaru and packed it into the back of Wayne's Santa Fe. Then they loaded Heather there. Then they untied our Christmas tree from the top of our car and tied it to the top of Wayne's. Then they told me to get into the Santa Fe where it was warm. Eric got on the phone and told the insurance people where to tow the car (a service station close to Eric's work), and we were on our way. Thirty minutes later we were home, and Heather was throwing a sleep-deprived-I-spent-the-last-five-days-playing-with-cousins-and-am-totally-unable-to-handle-all-of-this-upheaval-tantrum over the fact that we had left her beloved pink headband in the other car and she couldn't wear it anymore. (I later found it in the parking lot outside our home. So, even that worked out.)

Tomorrow, Eric will talk with the people at the service station. The car was acting similarly a few months ago, and although I can't remember what ended up being wrong, they fixed it, and it was working fine. Apparently whatever was fixed is now broken again.

* * *

Now, no one likes car trouble. It's expensive, inconvenient, and, if you're me and you have no natural inclination towards mechanics, it brings on feelings of fear and utter helplessness. (Although, I will say that those feelings have been lessened significantly since I became eternally linked to a man with Eric's talents and attitude.)

However, I am more grateful than I can say that when we did have car trouble, that we had it a mere 25 miles away from home, in daylight, and that we were saved from even the inconvenience of waiting for a tow by Wayne's ability and willingness to come rescue us. I count that as a miracle. Remember, I smelled the beginnings of the problems 200 miles earlier in Fillmore. I really don't see that we had any business getting as far as we did without incident. I don't think for one minute that it was a coincidence that the car became basically undrive-able at first safe and convenient pull-over spot in the canyon. Nor do I think it was a coincidence that Eric's parents were at home, just waiting for us to call them. (These are busy people, and it seems that their Sunday afternoons always contain long walks, or church meetings, or other church duties. In short, oftentimes, it can be hard to find them at home.)

I count it all as a miracle, and a testimony that God is watching over me and my little family, keeping us safe and sound. As I think about it, I am reminded that if God is going to care enough about us to save us from having to figure out how to get home from Fillmore Utah, instead of 200 miles later, He is certainly not going to forget about us when it comes to the threats in our lives that carry the bigger weights and importance.

And I'm grateful. At the risk of repeating myself, I'm more grateful than I can say.

Glorious Grand Junction--Part Two

2011-11-25T07:26:00.000-07:00

The highlight of our jaunt to Grand Junction was attending the ward Trunk-or-Treat party on the Saturday before Halloween.

I had spent the previous month poring over pinterest, looking for interesting-but-easy face painting for fairies, only to have go time come, and discover that Heather wouldn't let me touch her face with anything resembling paint or make-up.

Fortunately, Pirate Evan came through in the clutch, letting me use my mad skillz to smudge a beard on that adorable face. (Truth be told, it's probably about as much as I could manage, considering my art disability.)

Just as everyone was almost ready to go, Becca got a phone call from a realtor, asking if they could bring a potential buyer to the house in 30 minutes (or, it might have been an hour). We all went into super-clean mode, picking-up, organizing, scrubbing, you name it. When the time had arrived, we piled into the car and headed to the church for chili and cornbread, and most importantly, trick-or-treating.

(Incidentally, my sister is moving to Arizona in a few weeks. If any of you are looking or know someone who is looking to move to Glorious Grand Junction, and would like a reasonably priced loved-filled home in a friendly neighborhood, have I got the house for you!)

Anyway . . .

This girl cracks me up. Supposedly, once Jane heard that her big brother Evan was going to be a pirate for Halloween, she determined that she wanted to be a pirate as well. But, not just any pirate. No, she wanted to be a Spanish Dancer Pirate. As you all know, that's a whole different animal.

I think the thumb in the mouth is particularly frightening. You wouldn't want to run into this pirate in the dead of night, no siree.

When it came time to do the actual trick-or-treating, Heather got a real boon:

Evan, who had done this a time or two before, basically took Heather by the hand and led her to all the different cars, again and again and again. She was in heaven.

Jane joined them for rounds one and two, but after that, her interest waned, and she took over the handing-out duty, along with Becca.

And then there was Marian:

When we arrived in Grand Junction (a day and a half before the Trunk-or-Treat), Marian had yet to decide what she was going to be for Halloween. She came up with this go-go girl costume (with the help of her mom) in about 30 minutes, while browsing through a local goodwill store. Pretty impressive if you ask me.

And that pretty much wraps it all up. Of course, no trunk-or-treat/trick-or-treat report would be complete without a picture of the loot.

So, here:

One more Grand Junction post, and then I'll probably have Thanksgiving pics to share. Really, could anything be better?

Glorious Grand Junction-Part One

2011-11-22T07:19:00.000-07:00

Remember how Heather and I took a little jaunt to Grand Junction Colorado to spend some time with my sister a few weeks ago?

This is the first of the posts where I share more pictures of the adventure, with a few salient details.

Detail Number One: Random events on the way out.

Driving along Highway Six, we came upon a huge cattle run, right there on the highway. Traffic came to a standstill as cows plodded along on one side of the road. I'm no cowgirl, but I did grow up in Southern Utah, and I have to say, I've never seen that many cows in one place before. Not something you see every day. Probably not something I'll ever see again.

I did not take this picture, but it gives the idea. This picture is courtesy of nationalgeographic.com

We stopped to get gas in Helper Utah. It's nice, very small little town. I was surprised to see that they already had their Christmas Decor up on the main drag. Of course, considering that it was October 27th, and the decorations looked as if they'd seen quite a bit of dust, I'm kind of thinking they might have been up since the previous Christmas. Kind of fun(ny).

Next Grand Junction post we'll document the fact that we actually were in Grand Junction. You won't want to miss it.

Thanks-giving (for Christ)

2011-11-20T07:16:00.000-07:00

I was just going to tell this story and post it next week, but then, I realized that to best illustrate it, I really should include this video of Renee Fleming and the Tabernacle Choir, which makes it a perfect match for our Sunday and final random video week post. Serendipitous!

So,

For our ward Christmas Program this year, our choir director has asked me to sing "Poor Mary".

Only, we won't have an orchestra, and the rest of our ward choir won't be singing back-up to me (and I'm no Renee Fleming), so our version will be more like this:

I've done it once before. Actually, singing this song was the highlight of my Christmas last year. It turned out that a week and one day before our program, our Bishop heard this song performed at a concert, and asked our choir director if it would be possible to include it in the program. (Let me make this clear though--he did not demand anything. He just asked her if she could manage it. Our Bishop is a humble, understanding, loving man. I adore him.)

So anyway, the choir director asked me if I could do it. To be honest, I didn't know if I could. It's a deceptively tricky song, with a lot of sustained high notes, and I figured that it would probably take more breath support and finesse than a semi-retired-hobby-singer like myself could manage.

However, insecurities notwithstanding, the fact is, I have a little standing deal with the Lord. The deal is, if anyone asks me to sing, anytime, anywhere, I say "yes", unless I am logistically unable to be at the appointed place at the appointed time. In return, my hope is that the Lord will see that I am willing to share what talent he's given me, and will give me miracles in the talent-growth-and-maintenance department (not unlike the master did in the parable of the talents shared by Christ in the New Testament). So far, I've held up my end of the deal, and the Lord seems to be willing to indulge me with what I hope to be His.

So, I said I would do it, and then proceeded to spend the next week practicing and praying. Long story short, it went well. Really well. Many of those who heard it were moved, but more importantly (for me), I was moved. As I worked on the song, it started to become very personal to me, and I gained a message from the lyrics that I hadn't seen at first glance. The song tells how Mary didn't have anywhere to lay Jesus, how she didn't have anything to give Jesus, and finally, how she didn't have a song to sing Jesus. In each case, miraculously, those needs were met, by the manger, the wise men, and the angel choir.

As I applied that to my own past experiences, I could see times when I had been lacking, at times severely so, and how my needs had been met, my efforts had been multiplied, and my heart had been filled by events and blessings that were to me, as miraculous as any angel choir or king on a camel. As I realized that, I felt a kinship with Mary that I'd never felt before.

Sometimes, we come up short, you know? Sometimes life is hard, and we are thrust into circumstances that are uncomfortable and painful and difficult. But, we are never ever ever alone. And the Lord will provide. Just like He did for Mary.

(Interestingly, I started this post out intending to tell a lighter story having to do with this whole situation. I will get around to telling that one as well, but not today.)

environmentalists beware

2011-11-19T06:58:00.000-07:00

It's the third annual random video week here in quirksville!

Since it is Saturday, I thought we'd have a little cleaning-type video.

So, I present to you, something that has been life-changing around our house. I'm talking about sparkly dishes, that elusive magic delight that I took for granted all those years, until mysteriously last summer, all my dishes started to get dingy and grey.

In short, here is how we've been combating the recent change in dishwasher detergent formula:

I'm a believer.(You can buy TSP at amazon.com. It's around $4 a box, if I remember right.)

(In case you are wondering, I assuage my guilt about possible TSP pollution by remembering that to get clean dishes prior to this discovery, I was using/wasting three or four times the amount of water that I usually do to pre-wash, pre-soak, and post-wash all our dishes. Sixes, if you ask me.)

three for the price of one

2011-11-18T07:39:00.000-07:00

It's the third annual random video week here in quirksville!

In preparation for this week, a few days ago I asked fellow facebookers for their favorite videos of awesomeness. I got three absolute winners, and one that's a winner, but that I can't feel good about posting here, because it just feels too mean. (but funny--oh, so funny.)

Here are the three:

The Jimmy Kimmel Halloween Challenge Highlight Reel:
If you (like Tasha) are squeamish about seeing kids crying at the thought of their heartless parents eating all their candy, skip to the last minute of the video (around 2:45, to be exact). There are two kids there with personality plus and no tears. Pure awesomeness.

Kid History-Episode #3
"Kid History" comes highly recommended. If you aren't familiar with this series (I wasn't), it's a couple of brothers who get their kids to tell stories of things that have happened in their family. Then, the parents (brothers) act out the story, mouthing the words that the kids say. It is hilarious. My favorite part of this one happens to be the hot dog guy, and the screaming deals he runs, although the "uno, dos, tres, four" is a close second. (Kaylee likes episodes 5 & 6, but I have a soft spot in my heart for Spanish, and so episode #3 is my #1 pick.)

(True confessions time, I first heard about "Kid History" several months ago, but, thinking that it was a bunch of kids telling stories from American or World History, I determined it would be too dry for me.)(Sorry, Heidi.)

Guy on a Buffalo, episode #2
I honestly don't know what to think about this guy. Is he for real? I mean, not all of it, of course, but that cougar attack looks pretty real to me. Who does that for a YouTube video? Fascinating. Fascinating and totally quirky. You see why I had to include it, don't you.

*Update* He's not for real. Still pretty awesome though. Click here for an explanation.

And, in case you just can't stand not knowing what the other one is, click here, and then here. And then you'll know.

See y'all tomorrow!

"We're in trouble, Elmo"

2011-11-17T07:06:00.000-07:00

It's the third annual random video week here in quirksville!

I don't think I'm capable of doing a random video week post without posting something from Sesame Street. The fact that it has Adam Sandler in it is an absolute a bonus.

(Love the entry of the penguin. The body-building shrimp is pretty good too.)

there are no squibs

2011-11-16T07:46:00.000-07:00

Fact #1: Last May, in response to a post I wrote about Orson Scott Card, A faithful reader name Nate told me about a little site called hatrack.com (which happens to be Mr. Card's website, where he reviews everything, among other attractions on the site).

Fact #2: Last July, Mr. Card wrote this, regarding the final installment of the Harry Potter movies:

. . . it may be that the truest, most powerful review of this movie and the whole series is in a spoof made by some college students at Brigham Young University.

These college kids are the generation that grew up with the Harry Potter books and movies. Back when Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone -- er, pardon me, Sorcerer's Stone -- was turning non-readers into readers, they embraced the book, tried out their wands in darkened rooms, dreamed of the letter from Hogwart's that never came.

So on the occasion of the final movie's release, Whitney Call wrote new lyrics to Katy Perry's "Firework" and got her friends together to show all those magical yearnings that Harry Potter created -- but reality and growing up dashed.

It's so nostalgic and bittersweet that even as I laughed, I wanted to cry. It teases us about our Harry Potter obsession, but also expresses our feelings about stories that we love. It's more than a mere parody, it's a great piece of fervent literary criticism.

Fact #3: I went to check out the video, at Mr. Card's invitation.

Fact #4: I agree 100% with Orson Scott Card. Both hilarious and nostalgic, this might be my very favorite of the week.

Enjoy.

(My favorite part? 1:05)

. . . just in case yesterdays offering didn't get you "feelin' groovy" . . .

2011-11-15T07:33:00.000-07:00

It's the third annual random video week here in quirksville!

I remember listening to this song as a little girl in my dad's green and white striped truck. He had gone through and recorded all his LP albums onto cassette tapes, and would play them as he drove around. I think I might even remember the first time I heard it. It was a new sound to me, different from any other music than I'd ever heard, and I knew immediately that I loved it. To put it mildly, it was a favorite from the first time I heard it, and is still a favorite today.

So, for fun, today I've got two versions of this song, both by the same guys, separated by many many many years.

THEN:

NOW(ish):

I love the contrast. I love how bright and hopeful and clean and innocent and Sesame-Street/Disney-esque they seem in the first one (and how fun it is when the Smothers Brothers join in), and then, in a totally different way, I love how semi-hammered by the life they are in the second one, and especially how hippie their band is. Classic people watching there for sure.

Did you notice that they moved the key up as they got older. That's a bit of a surprise to me. I foresee myself moving down in pitch as I get older. (Oh--and the second version is about two minutes longer than the first. That's not all that surprising. I definitely foresee myself getting more long-winded as I age.)

I know you've all been waiting for it . . .

2011-11-14T07:35:00.000-07:00

It's the third annual random video week here in quirksville!

(And boy or boy, have I got some good ones lined up for you this year!)

I LOVE THIS ONE.

Of course I love the music (It's a peppy tune after all)(also, Eric says it sounds like 80s music, and I still have a love affair with 80s music. Don't judge-), but what I love very most is all the people dancing. People in their living rooms, people in the snow, one Dwight-like guy in furniture store, a guy being superman in his kitchen, random kids all over the place. Love it.

I can hardly watch it without dancing myself. Okay, I can't watch it without dancing myself. I've tried. To be painfully honest, in preparation for random video week, a few days ago I set up the tripod and took a video of Heather and I dancing around to this song, a la these guys. (We do it about every other week or so--but never with the camera before)(or again.)

You won't be seeing that video. Actually, my plan is that no one will ever see that video. After looking over it, I am absolutely floored at the difference between the grooving Charlotte in my head and the grooving Charlotte that's out there for anyone to see. Alas.

I haven't deleted it yet, because if I were to be hit by a bus this year, there might come a time that Heather will treasure a video of her mom acting like a complete uncoordinated fool while dancing with her little girl. But, barring that kind of situation, that video will never see the light of day.

But enough of that.

For those of you who are interested, my favorite parts of this little piece of perfection are found at:

1:04, 2:03 (actually, I think this guy is my favorite of the whole bunch), 2:32, and 3:06.

Enjoy!

(What are your favorite parts? Hmmmmm?)

Random Picture Post-bygones edition

2011-11-11T05:58:00.000-07:00

Remember how I used to be a runner?

This is a shot of the 3-A girls lining up to start the Utah State Cross-Country competition last month. One of those girls on the left hand side in the gold and maroon is my niece, Kaylee. Kaylee is the reason that I was even at the competition and was able to take this picture.

As the girls were lining up, I felt the anticipation in the air. As exciting as it all was, and as happy as I was that Kaylee was having the opportunity to do it, I have to admit that the overwhelming feeling that I had was one of relief, absolute relief that I will never ever ever ever again have to experience the nervous tension of stepping on the starting line of a State Cross-Country meet.

(It's kind of like how I feel about serving as a Mormon Missionary. Soooo glad I did it. Sooo glad I don't have to do it again.)

a few random thoughts

2011-11-10T06:44:00.000-07:00

Back when I had more control over what I did with my time, I spent a fair amount of time traveling to see my siblings and nieces and nephews. I loved it. However, it seemed like nearly every time I did so, I would catch some kind of bug, generally a cold, from little kids who had an immune system that was differently wired than my own. Now as I sit here, sniffling, coughing, and avoiding talking (no voice), it's oddly comforting (while not-at-all-oddly annoying) that some things never change.

* * *

My wedding ring means more to me than I realized. I lost it for about 36 hours a bit ago. I was braiding Heather's hair, and I took it off and put it in the pocket of my ratty not-ready-for-the-day-yet jeans and forgot all about it. Later, I remembered, but I had already changed into other clothes. I ran upstairs and looked in the jeans, but it wasn't there. I turned the closet inside out, dumping out the dirty laundry FOUR TIMES, going through every single thing, turning every sock inside out, all to no avail. I spent 30 minutes crying about it, and then the next day and a half alternating between 1)Telling myself that it was just a "thing" and the sentiment behind the "thing" was something that I still had and so I shouldn't be too sad about it, and 2)Feeling like if I could ever find it again it would be better than a hundred Christmases combined.

Thankfully, I found it the next evening, as I was changing into frumpy sweats for an evening of popcorn and videos. I was shaking out my sweatpants, (which I keep on a shelf in the closet) and it fell to the floor. I picked it up and bounded into the bathroom, where Eric was giving Heather a bath, screaming and dancing for joy (me screaming, not Heather or Eric). That was a good day.

(Better than a hundred Christmases combined.)

* * *

Cleaning out/un-plugging the drain in the bathroom sink, while a little (or a lot) on the gross side, gives me a surprising sense of accomplishment.

* * *

I think that's enough for today. I'm not even going to bother to find a random picture for this post. I'm just going to slap it up there, and go on with life for a bit. So there.

a requiem of sorts

2011-11-08T06:18:00.000-07:00

Cedar City-Summer 1992. I'm on the far right, Jeri is in the back, at the top of the psuedo-pyramid. The guy in the shorts is my friend Tony. The other two people may or may not want to be named before the whole world, so I'll leave their names off this little caption. We look a little rough-around-the-edges because we had just returned from a weekend of mountain-time. (Also--this has nothing to do with anything, but man, I LOVED those boots.)

Last week I attended the funeral of a friend. We ran around in the same group for about two years in college, and had a lot (and I DO mean a lot) of fun times full of laughter and smiles and giggles and just general mirth. In fact, many of my best memories of that time feature him rather prominently. I still have a note that he left on my car one day. It's a whole piece of lined paper, with four words. I remember I had been really busy for about two months at the time he left it, wrapping up school, preparing to serve a mission, being involved in performing groups and with my job in the college of business. I hadn't had as much free-socializing time, and apparently he missed me.

(He alternated between calling me "cupcake", and "pumpkin". This was to tease me--because I had mentioned at one point that it drove me crazy when people used food items as terms of endearment for people in their lives. I find that ironic now, given that Eric's pet name for our Heather is "pumpkin" or "pumpkin-eater", and mine is "muffin-muffin".)

Anyway, this friend, his name was Tony, developed colon cancer awhile ago, and one thing led to another, until finally, after a very valiant battle, he passed shortly before Halloween. The funeral was beautiful, a fitting tribute to a man who obviously loved life.

The whole thing got me thinking. I don't feel ready or old enough to be having friends developing cancer, much less dying from it. My feeling is that death is something that should happen to older people--people who are 80+, people who have lived all the life they want to live (or pretty close), people who have spouses and/or parents and dear friends on the other side waiting for them. Tony was none of these. (Neither was Phil). So, losing him (them) is hard.

Several years ago, I spent some time seeing a therapist, in hopes that by doing so, I would be able to get out of a pit of sadness and depression that was threatening to become my own personal home. It (along with a little miracle called Lexapro) worked really well, but that's not the point I'm trying to make right now. The reason I bring it up now is because one of the topics we talked about in those sessions was the impermanence of life, how everybody dies sooner or later, and the necessity of being able to accept that, and live with joy in spite of it all.

Sometimes I wonder how I'll manage when the inevitable day comes that I lose someone really close to me.

. . . And then, I decide that there's no sense trying to "prepare" for that day. Really, is there any way to prepare for a loss like that? I don't think so. I think perhaps the best way to deal with it all is to get all the happy, peaceful, laugh-y, thoughtful, meaningful, joy-erific living done that you can, while you can, and with the people that you can.

And to trust in the Lord to fill in the gaps when the time comes that there are gaps to be filled.

Can You Find the Stone(ish) Lion in this Shot?

2011-11-05T11:45:00.000-06:00

Orlando Florida. Taken by Heidi, with some assistance from daughter Eden, and fellow USoSL member, Corrie.

Awesome.

Random Photo-Please Tell Me You Think This is as Funny as I Do edition

2011-11-04T07:33:00.000-06:00

The Monday after the Top of Utah Marathon (the route of which goes right by my house), I stumbled up this most excellent sign.

Seriously, how awesome is this?

(Totally awesome.)

Having a Wonderful Time, Wish You Were Here

2011-10-29T15:57:00.001-06:00

Heather and I are in Grand Junction Colorado, visiting my sister and her family for a few days.

We've been to our first pumpkin patch,

Attended our first Trunk-or-Treat,

And in general, have just had a marvelous time.

A full report will likely be coming later (like in a month or two, if the past is any indication of the future.)

random photo-gardens and eden edition

2011-10-28T06:48:00.000-06:00

So, back earlier in the year, when we still had tomatoes growing in our backyard, Eden came to visit one day. After she and Heather had spent most of the day wearing Eric out, I came home from work and took a shift as well. Long story short, we were in the garden, and Heather was eating the cherry (jelly bean) tomatoes as if there was no tomorrow. I asked Eden if she wanted some as well, and she hesitantly said something along the lines of, "Umm, okay--I'll eat some." I'm not for sure, but it seemed as if Eden wasn't a real big tomato fan in her regular life.

Well, no one can stand up to the Jelly Bean tomatoes (seriously--soooo sweet and delicious!), and certainly not Eden. She loved them.

She was so proud of herself for eating and liking tomatoes that she wanted to immediately share the good news with her best friend of the day, who happened to be Eric. Unfortunately, as I mentioned before, Eric was worn out, and was taking a much deserved nap. So, I told Eden that she would have to wait for awhile to share her happy news.

Eden was concerned that we might forget to tell Eric, so she had me draw a picture of her with her orange tomato, and then, she got me to write the words explaining the drawing.

Voila!

Back Again!! The Monthly Round-up, October Edition

2011-10-26T06:41:00.000-06:00

Okay, so turns out, I'm the girl who cried wolf.

As much as I'm enjoying Pinterest, I've found that I do still feel the need/desire to post a few fun things over here from time to time. So, it looks like the monthly round-up will continue. Hooray!

I'm liking this recipe from the Promise Website. Eric loves spinach and I love white beans. Looks like a match made in heaven. And for Heather? Well, her tastes aren't developed enough for her to really get a say at this point, right? (Please note that Promise Buttery Spread did NOT request that I post this, nor are they compensating me for this generous plug of their recipe. What's up with that?)

Is it even possible for me to put one of these round-ups together without including a wreath? I think not. I love this one, and it looks pretty darn easy to do.

Here's a handy list of how to store different kinds of fresh produce. Did you know that as soon as you wash fresh fruit it strips the outer layer and quickens the ripening process? I didn't.

Reader's Digest gives us a list of 12 little tips to save time and money here. I like the one that says you're wealthy enough to give some money to worthy causes if you can buy all the groceries you need. I also like the tip to avoiding lunatics on city buses.

I love the Readers Digest Feature, "13 things a ______ won't tell you." Recently they did one on 13 things a funeral director won't tell you. One of my favorite tips: You can buy caskets that are just as nice as the ones in a showroom for thousands of dollars less online from Walmart, Costco, or straight from the manufacturer. Who knew?

This garden tomato sauce looks delish, easy, and doesn't have a lot of fat-filled stuff in the recipe. Put it over fish or chicken or whole-wheat pasta and it's an easy healthy meal. Actually--I have some frozen roasted tomatoes as well--I wonder how well it would work with those. Perhaps I'll try it and update you on it later.

I'm into braiding these days. (In case you haven't noticed). And, I think this braid looks awesome, and there's a tutorial to boot. Yippee!

I'm thinking about doing a little redo in Heather's room this year--maybe. If I do, it's highly likely that this free printable will be making an appearance. Love it (and for those of you non-yellow-ites, it comes in different colors too.)

We have a big shoe box full of cables and other things that we probably don't need, but are afraid to throw away, "just in case". I'm thinking that until we get up the gumption to just toss them, this might be a better option for storing them. (those are just old toilet paper rolls you know? Genius!)

Here's an easy-as-pie recipe for homemade hair detangler. I haven't made it yet, but with Heather's hair growing longer by the day, and winter (which is generally long-hair weather for our family) around the corner, it's absolutely only a matter of time.

The other day, I ran out of Clorox Clean-up. So, rather than going to the store, I hopped on pinterest, and typed in "Homemade Clorox Clean-up" in the search box. I was immediately directed to this site where Katie taught me that a mixture of 1/4 cup bleach, 1 Tbs dish soap, and the rest of the container of water (in my case, my old Clorox Clean-up bottle) works just as well as the stuff you buy in the store. I tried it out, and I have to agree. Hello extra four dollars!

This article from Reader's Digest lists eighteen different tips that are used in various cultures and countries to combat obesity. Some that I might try:

Thailand: Thai food is among the spiciest in the world. Hot peppers raise your metabolism, but the real benefit is that eating spicy food slows down your eating, giving your body time to signal that it's full.
Brazil: Nearly every meal in Brazil is served with a side of beans and rice. These sides are lower in fat and higher in fiber than many of the sides that dominate traditional Western fare, and are thought to stabilize blood sugar levels.
Germany: Nearly 75% of Germans eat breakfast daily, and the meal consists of fruit and whole-grain cereals and breads. (The percentage of Americans who eat breakfast daily is around 44%) Recent studies indicate that if you haven't eaten breakfast, your brain's reward center will light up more vivdly when you see a high-calorie food, making you more likely to indulge.

Well, hello there!

2011-10-24T07:59:00.000-06:00

I finally saw Harry Potter this weekend. You all know this of course, having seen it months ago, but that movie is absolutely awesome. Probably my favorite of the year. I cried, I laughed, I felt wistful about the end of an era, and comforted that it ended so well.

Loved this part.

I became completely annoyed with the family of five (two parents, three kids aged two to six) that sat directly in front of us and proceeded to say "What's that Mom?", "Where's Harry?", "I need more popcorn!", "I want the ORANGE soda!" ad nauseum throughout what seemed like every tender or quietly suspenseful scene in the entire movie, but even that couldn't mar the joy for me (particularly after we moved mid-movie to quieter seats).

I've decided to pretend that the family was there for one last family togetherness time before the father is deployed somewhere scary and dangerous. Not that I would wish that on anyone (it was just a movie after all), but it makes me feel less frustrated with the situation. And who knows? Maybe there really were extenuating circumstances that, if I were aware of them, would help me to feel more kindly about it all.

* * *

In other news . . .

I know you're dying to know how long I ran this morning. Well, I'll tell you.

Twenty-five minutes. Non-stop.

Oh yeah baby, I'm tearing it up.

As far as I'm concerned, This is more of an excuse for me to post three freaking adorable pictures of Daxton than anything else, but we'll call it a USoSL post anyway.

2011-10-22T07:05:00.000-06:00

So, as I've mentioned, my brother Doug recently moved from Ohio to Texas. You might remember that just before he moved, he sent me some Cleveland-area lion pictures that he took on the weekly Sunday walk that he would take with his family.

Well, now we start the Texas installment!

This lovely lion can be found in Canton Texas, at the Canton trade days. This event is held the weekend before the first Monday of every month. Basically, it's the largest flea market in the world, with as many as 500,000 shoppers during the weekend.

(That cute Dodger fan? Oh yeah, that's my little nephew. Adorable, no? Check out that smile!)

Now, if you're just in it for the fabulousness that is Stone Lions, you can probably just click off to something else here. However, if you 're up for a little bit of finagling (although no points will be awarded), and vintage Doug-ness, then read on. See, we are about to see Doug link stone lions to his favorite subject/hobby of them all. Of course I am talking about sports.

(Seriously--between not liking to sew, and not caring one fig for professional sports, sometimes I wonder if my parents adopted me. Good thing I can sing, and that I worry. Two very Corry/Willis-esque traits. Anyway, back to the promised sports link by Doug.)

To get the full effect, I quote from Douglas directly:

[This] reminds me of another stone (or stone like) lion I have seen. This is in Canton Ohio. I admit I did not take this picture in Ohio.  Although I have visited the NFL hall of fame twice, the only picture I have of this bust of Barry Sanders is of half of his face that I got while taking a picture of the bust of Dan Marino.  So, I am not sure this is blog worthy or not.  (Note from Charlotte:  Obviously I have deemed that it is.) And in case you are wondering Barry Sanders was a running back for the Detroit Lions during the 90's. (In fact, I was wondering that very thing.) He was inducted into the hall of fame in 2004 which hall of fame is located in Canton Ohio about an hour away from Cleveland.

Doug continues:

You knew it was only a matter of time before I weaseled sports into the USoSL. I'm nothing if not consistent.

Now, if you have any doubts that I have not seen this in real life I also attached another picture as proof that I have (that's the Lombardi trophy given to the winning team of the Super Bowl).

And there you have it folks. Two stone lions (sort of) and a stone football (sort of). Knowing my brothers, I fear that I may have opened a Pandora's box with this one. Time will tell. As is generally the case, time will tell.

Let's hope for the best, shall we?

another appearance of the random picture post

2011-10-21T07:23:00.000-06:00

Back in my early blogging days, I would often take a day (a Friday usually) and post a few random pictures, generally with some explanations.

For some reason, I feel inclined to do the same again today. So, here (without too many explanations this time around) is a semi-random selection of some of my favorite pictures from September.

Heather and Rachel live it up at the Spanish Fork splash pad.

Kamree is also excited to be at the splash pad.

Rachel reaches for the camera.

This splash pad is obviously a little more fancy than our Cache Valley version. (But, we can walk to ours, which is a definite advantage.)

I love my brother. I also love how you can see me taking the picture reflected in his glasses. (Not! Ha-ha, does anyone say "not" anymore? I don't think so! A little behind the times am I, as usual.)(Also, watching a lot of Empire Strikes Back lately, have we been. Tell, can you?)

The two newest Corry members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Kamree and MaKell were both baptized within a month of this shot. (Kamree later on that day, and MaKell about a month prior.)

Poor Heather. It's not easy fending off an overly affectionate mother.

Not easy at all.

The End.

I've got a few more random pictures in the hopper, but they deserve their own post, so be watching on future Fridays for those. I know, you can hardly wait. But you're gonna have to. Sorry, that's just the way the ball bounces.

so, to continue with that thought . . .

2011-10-18T23:06:00.000-06:00

As long as I'm talking about training for 5Ks, and being overweight, I might as well share something else that's been on my mind lately.

Last week, we had family pictures taken.

I was hesitant to do so. I mean, to be perfectly honest and more open than I generally am here, I'm not all that confident or pleased with the way my body looks at this particular moment in my life. In saying that, I don't mean to be ungrateful. My body works marvelously, and I'm lucky to have it. However, I haven't been as careful with what I've been putting into my body as I should, particularly considering the fact that I'm not twenty-two anymore, and have the metabolism of the forty-year-old that I am.

So, at the moment, I don't feel particularly breathtakingly beautiful. I don't feel hideous, or awful, or discouraged beyond repair, but I don't feel all that pretty, and as I was contemplating the whole family picture thing, I wondered if I really wanted to have a film-record of our family (and more specifically me) right now.

But, I determined that it was okay. I mean, Heather is only going to be three years old for a little while. Sure, Eric and I look decidedly middle-aged, and somewhat pudgy, but a big part of that is the fact that we are middle-aged. Furthermore, as I reasoned to myself, I may not look my very best, but I'm already walking around my life looking like this for anyone to see. In light of that, why should I let some extra pounds stop me from getting a record of the joy that is our family is right now?

So, photographer recommendations were sought (I was looking for that magical intersection of talent and frugality), and a photographer was chosen. We donned complemenary outfits and drove up the canyon, where Jennifer Bryner was waiting, camera in hand.

She was marvelous.

I'm so glad that we did it. I'm so glad that I didn't let my own insecurities keep us from going forward. It's true that there are shots that give me a little bit of heartburn regarding my own appearance (the two right above, for example). But on the whole, the overwhelming feeling I get from these pictures is happiness. I feel that they capture our family as we are right now. Very happy, enjoying life, a little cheesy, and absolutely blessed. Life's too short to wait for it to be picture perfect, you know?

Of course (as we see with this shot), there's always the chance that a life that you think isn't picture perfect, turns out to be precisely that. Isn't it nice when it works out that way?

True Confessions

2011-10-17T23:10:00.000-06:00

This is not the confession. This is something that makes me laugh my head off.

Here's the confession:

I am training to run a 5K.

To some of you, this might not seem like a big deal. But it is a big deal, and not in the ways or for the reasons that you might think.

See, I used to be a runner.

I used to smirk a little at the idea that a person would need to train to run a 5K. A 5K was something that you ran when you were trying to train for something else. It was where you started. Working up to a 5K? Ridiculous.

(Kaylee--don't laugh at me! Have mercy!)

Here's my other true confession:

I'm actually enjoying training to run a 5K.

Can you believe it? Honestly, I'm not sure that I can. When Heidi asked me (about a month ago) if I wanted to train to run a 5K with her, and I (semi-reluctantly) said yes, I wasn't sure I could do it. It had been at least 10 years, and probably closer to 15 since I had run for longer than 4 or 5 minutes consecutively. So, the thought of 3-point-1 miles of straight running was daunting to say the least.

Fortunately, we started out small. We live on opposite sides of Cache Valley, so we trained individually, and checked in from time to time on our progress. We started out with the following grueling workout:

5 minute warm-up walk

90 second run

90 second walk

3 minute run

3 minute walk

90 second run

90 second walk

3 minute run

3 minute walk

90 second run

90 second walk

5 minute cool-down walk

It wasn't all that hard (shocker, I know), and it gave me courage to try the next one and the next one and the next one, for a few weeks now. And then came this morning. The morning of glorious triumph!

The morning that I, Charlotte Corry Cantwell, a woman diagnosed with exercise-induced asthma, a woman who is 30 pounds over her ideal weight and 15 pounds over her "this is close enough for me to be satisfied" weight, a woman who has been telling herself for years that running just wasn't her thing anymore . . .

This morning, I, Charlotte Corry Cantwell ran for twenty-freaking-amazing minutes without stopping a single time.

!!!!!!!

I know, right? This really isn't as big a deal as I'm making it. Twenty minutes of running is not that big a deal. It especially seems a little strange that it would be a big deal for a girl who practically defined herself by her running performance, which is something that I was tempted to do in my teen years.

But, I gotta tell you, it feels like a big deal. It feels like a great big wonderful big happy deal.

I'll take it.

(Thanks Heidi.)

.

Circles

2011-10-14T06:07:00.000-06:00

our backyard paradise--August 2011

A few days ago, Heather and I took two hours and winterized our little garden.

We stripped all the tomato plants of all the green tomatoes, probably thirty or forty of them. (Note to 2012 Charlotte--next year, skip the Best Boy, Jet Star and DX-whatever-was-developed-at-USU and just plant Early Girls, Jelly Bean Mix, and Grape Tomatoes. Actually, you can skip the Grape Tomatoes too, and just plant two plants of the Jelly Bean Mix. When you read this again and you wondering why, I'll tell you. The Early Girl plant was the only one that actually produced red ripe full-size tomatoes before the frost came!)

We detached the beading wire from the tomato cages (which I had placed earlier in the summer to tie them all together, making it so one semi-unsecured plant didn't meet an utimely demise on the hot-as-a-frying-pan cement pad.), and with a lot of grunting, freed the cages from the tendrils of the plants.

We took six trips to the dumpster, one for each plant.

We clipped all the basil.

We moved the (potted) strawberry plants over by the house and covered them up with visqueen, with high hopes that they will survive the winter and give us another year or two or ten of berry deliciousness. (Eric's mom said that putting them near the house might help the roots make it thought the hard freezes. Gary from work (a/k/a "Farmer Gary" according to Heather) said that once it snows, I should pile a bunch of snow on top of them, which will provide them insulation from the freezes. I'm planning to follow both sets of instructions. Hedging my bets you know.)

We sprayed off the cement pad, making it look cleaner, and clearer, and more empty.

I (sans Heather) moved the green tomatoes down into the crawl space, where I'm told they should ripen over time. (At that point, you know I'll be making more roasted tomatoes.)

We separated the basil leaves from the stems, cut them up (Heather used safety scissors), put them into ice cube trays and covered the trays with water.

We sprayed off our muddy shoes.

We went to Wal-Mart to return the jelly jars I bought last week in a fit of delusion (somehow I thought I'd make 24 half-pints of pomegranate jelly and give them as Christmas gifts. Have you ever made pomegranate jelly? It is absolutely delicious. It is also quite possibly the most labor-intensive edible I've ever made.)(and keep in mind, I make tamales at least once a year), and came home with 6 cubic feet of mulch, which we put in the shed for next year.

It was hard work. Heather actually handled it all pretty well, with lots of questions, and observations, and talking and talking and talking.

I handled it pretty well too, but by the end of it all, I was exhausted.

The next morning, as I was eating my toast smothered with ~~gold~~ pomegranate jelly, I looked out the window at our bare, clean cement pad, and felt a little sad. We had a great summer out there, painting rocks, painting the cement, (painting spiderman), harvesting, playing in the kiddie pool, sitting under the sun umbrella reading or crocheting, laughing, and laughing some more.

Looking out the window, it reminded me of that song from the Forgotten Carols, the one (that I don't especially care for) that says, "I cry the day that I take the tree down." As much as I enjoy Christmas, I'm not one who generally cries the day that I take the tree down, although I am often tempted to curse as I try to fit all the decorations back into the boxes that they came from. But, I guess maybe I am one who almost cries the day that I take the garden down now, aren't I?

And yet, if the summer didn't end and I didn't have to take the garden down, then winter wouldn't begin, and I wouldn't be able to put the tree up. And then if Christmas didn't end and I didn't have to take the tree down, then spring wouldn't come, and I wouldn't be able to plant the garden again.

So, I guess I don't mind taking the garden down all that much after all. Fact is, it was a lovely spring, a great summer, and an even better fall. Who knows? Maybe winter will be the very best of all.

Here's hoping.

Dery Own!

2011-10-12T06:54:00.000-06:00

So, I have this fuzzy green and blue bathrobe that is made out of that soft sweatshirt material (what is the technical name for that material anyway?) that I love. (I know you will all be disappointed to learn that there will be no pictures of me in said bathrobe posted here. I do have some pride.)

Anyway, as I said, I love that bathrobe. It is soft, it is warm, it is comforting, particularly in the winter when I've just gotten out of the shower and I am freezing to death, or in the summer when I have just gotten out of the shower and Eric has the A/C on full blast and I am freezing to death. (Like many couples that I know, Eric and I have temperature disputes on a regular basis. That silly man likes it cool in the summer and warm in the winter. I like it cheap which generally means the opposite. Surprised? I thought not.)

Oh--did I mention that my mom sewed the robe for me? She did. That will be an integral part of the story, so I'd better not forget to mention it.

So, awhile back, I was hanging out in my pjs and my robe, trying to get Heather dressed for the day. It was a Saturday morning, so we had some time to spare here and there. Kind of out of the blue, Heather noticed my robe, how soft it was, how warm it was, how totally awesome it was, and she asked me where her robe was. I informed her that Heather had no robe, which unsurprisingly, made her sad.

So, I did what any other non-indulgent mother who is trying to raise a child up in a manner so that she learns that awesome robes of joy don't grow on trees would do. I picked up the phone and we called grandma. As it turned out, grandma wasn't home, so Heather left a voice mail message for her. It was this:

Grandma! I need a robe !

Please!

(The "please" came after a bit of motherly prompting)

We went along with our lives for a few weeks after that, and then it so happened that I was talking to my mom on the phone, and I asked her if she'd received Heather's robe order. She had, however, she hadn't been exactly clear on which member of the princess pack* was making the order, and so it had kind of slipped to the bottom of her consciousness.

Luckily, I was able to set her straight. Even more luckily, mom was scheduled to come up for a visit later that month.

Long story short, she brought up her sewing machine, a few yards of different fabric options, and bada bing bada boom, two hours later, Heather had a a soft, warm, pink robe.

I think my favorite part of the whole thing was seeing her joy as she tried it on for the first time. "A robe of my dery own!", she kept exclaiming, "A robe of my dery own!"

Grandma, you totally came through for us again. Thank you.

*The Princess Pack is the name I've given to a group of Corry girl cousins. It starts with Jane (age four) and ends with Josie (age 2-3 weeks), and it includes no fewer than seven little girls within that four year age span. At almost exactly one year younger than Jane, Heather is sitting pretty in the middle of the pack.

Another Scrapbook-esque Entry - (calling a spade a spade)

2011-10-09T07:25:00.000-06:00

Remember when I wrote about how Heather and I were going to have a mother daughter date to Salt Lake/Provo, and that we were going to see Grandma Corry's Temple, and ride the train, and eat cupcakes at the Sweet Tooth Fairy?

Remember how I wrote that I might post pictures later?

Well, today is the day that I'm doing just that.

I realize that I'm over a month behind in posting pictures, and that this might be annoying to some of you. However, as I look over the photos to decide which ones to post, I'm reminded of the incredibly fun time that we had together, and doing so brings me peace and contentment inside, and reminds me just how happy I am with my life, just as it is right now.

So, for those of you who are still checking in in spite of the fact that the stuff that is posted here isn't exactly timely, thank you. Your willingness to read influences my motivation to post, which adds to my joy.

Thank you.

And it's the documentation of yet another kid craft!

2011-10-07T07:34:00.000-06:00

Crocheting aside, I don't consider myself to be all that crafty. Maybe that's because I don't sew, and every time I try to paint anything more intricate than a plan background it looks like it was done by a seven-year old. (An untalented seven-year old at that.)

However, I learned from the play-doh experience that if Heather is doing a craft, I can often get a good 20-40 minutes of mostly uninterrupted cooking time, cleaning time, or accounting time. For that kind of pay-off, I'll make myself crafty!

So a bit ago, Heather and I ventured into the world of homemade finger paints. We used this recipe, which I mostly liked, but if we were to do it again, I think I'd skip the dishsoap. It added a sudsy-ness to the texture that was actully kind of messy, when it all came down to it. (Does that seem ironic to anyone else?)

And that's pretty much all I have to say about that. Of course, no blog post about a kid craft would be complete without photos of said kid doing the craft, right?

Right.

That's freezer paper on the table.

Note the suds.

hands-on & focused

2011-10-05T07:22:00.000-06:00

Remember back when I posted this? No? Well, okay, I'll copy it below again.

Experts say that younger children are starved for hands-on, focused playtime. So, set a quiet timer for 15 minutes, and drop the cell phone and play like you used to. Take a trip to the backyard to look for bugs, make a couch fort, or just tell a story (advises Kathy Hirsch-Pasek, PhD, author of Einstein Never Used Flash Cards).

A little bit ago, I decided to try it. So, I set the kitchen timer for 15 minutes, took off my watch, closed my eyes to the chores that needed to be done, and resolved to spend some dedicated time pretending with Heather.

Turns out, that Kathy Hirsch knows how to give some pretty good advice.

Sweet Domesticity

2011-10-03T06:35:00.000-06:00

A couple of weeks ago, on a free Sunday afternoon, I made peach jam. There was a time when I would have considered jam-making to be the distinct opposite of keeping the Sabbath Day Holy. Now that I discovered freezer jam though, it takes about 30 minutes, and I enjoy it.

A few days after that, I was perusing facebook, and I found a link which directed me to this link which has a super easy recipe for frozen tomato sauce. I'm all over it.

A bit after that, while I was sitting in Primary (where I was supposed to have been paying attention to a very fine sharing time lesson on how we can all be member missionaries), my Primary President informed me of the joy that is oven-roasted tomatoes. I found some directions on the internet and wow! Let's just say that life may never be the same for me again.

A few days after that (in search of more tomatoes), I called Eric's mom to see if she had any extra ('cuz I was pretty sure she would.) She did. So, the next day, Heather and I went to grandma's house to have a little harvest. We picked two laundry baskets of tomatoes, a reusable grocery bag full of plums, and another grocery bag full of apples.

I spent the next week making more roasted tomatoes, and freezer tomato sauce, and frozen diced tomatoes, and plum jam (like the cooked kind--first time for that!), and plum fruit leather, and dried apples in every spare minute that I had.

I had a 30 minute conversation with my own mother, in which I determined that it was time for me to bite the bullet and buy my first canning aparatus. After calling around and finding that there were none in town in my price range, I ordered one on-line.

It came in this week.

Sometimes, I take a good look at myself and I wonder who is this woman inside of my body, and where did regular Charlotte go? Growing up, I was the girl who wasn't a big fan of the whole canning thing (to put it mildly. I'd say that I almost hated it, but I don't want to hurt my mom's feelings). I enjoyed fall, because I loved being able to pick and eat apples off the tree, strawberries out of the garden, peas out of the pod. But, the work that was involved in getting all that food prepped and stored for our winter use? Let's just say that it's no coincidence that I'm 40 and 1/2, and just barely purchased my first canner.

So, over these past few weeks, as I've fallen into bed, exhausted and hot and sweaty from a long day/evening/few hours in the kitchen peeling, straining, chopping, and whatever-else-ing, I've been amazed at the satisfying, happy feeling that has filled my heart. It's honestly been a huge surprise to me to feel the fulfillment that doing those tasks has brought to me. I had no idea that I would enjoy it so much, or that I'd be so proud of myself for doing it.

I reminds me of a conversation that I had with my mom when I was a teenager. We were talking about laundry, and I was asking my mom why she did it for us, instead of making us do our own, as was the case with many other mothers I knew. She responded that she liked being able to do something like that, that she saw it as a manifestation of her love for us, and knew that we saw it that way as well. I (in typical obnoxious teenager fashion) snorted at that, thinking it was kind of cheesy. (My mom was not impressed, incidentally, but she continued to wash and fold my clothes until I left home, the saint.)

Now, I'm not saying that I'm going to start taking joy in laundry anytime soon. A lot will have to happen within my heart before a change of that magnitude takes place. But, as I look at those jars of jam, the containers full of dried fruit, and a freezer full of vegetable bounty, I feel that I'm getting a little glimmer of what she was talking about.

It happens that I come from a long line of home gardeners and canners, on both sides of my family (as does Eric). It may be awhile before our house/yard situation allows me to join in the gardening to any significant degree, but I'm really very pleased to finally be joining in on the preservation side of things. I've said it already in this post, but I'll say it one more time--I had no idea that it would feel this good.

Image courtesy of Chiot's Run

A Pioneer Day Bedtime Story

2011-10-02T08:10:00.000-06:00

This is a little story that I put together for the kids in primary for the 24th of July (I ~~made them sing~~ gave them the opportunity to sing applicable songs about the restoration, Joseph Smith, temples, and pioneers at different parts in the story). As I was putting it all together, it occurred to me that it would make a good bedtime story for Heather, and maybe some other kids. So, I decided to write it here, where I can find it, rather than keeping it in my Primary notes, which may or may not be relegated to some indistinct binder soon, if they avoid being tossed in the recycling bin.

All images except for the last two are courtesy of lds.org, specifically in the gospel art kit section.

The Story of Our Heritage

-a true (if simplified) story of the beginnings of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints

This is where our story begins. Many many years ago, a teen-aged boy named Joseph had a problem. He wanted to be in a church, but there were so many churches in his town that he was really confused about which one he should join. Many of the churches had teachings that were just the opposite from one another, and so it was really hard for him to figure out which one was right. He had a hard time with this, and he used to worry about it a lot.

But, then one day, he read in the Bible something that changed everything for him. It was in a book written by a prophet named James, and the part that was important said, If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, who giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not. Joseph Smith knew that that meant that he could ask God what church he should join, and that God wouldn't make fun of him or get angry with him for asking.

So, Joseph decided that he would do just that. He went to a quiet grove (which is kind of like a small forest) near his house and knelt down to pray and ask God what church he should join.

Well, to Joseph's surprise, Heavenly Father and Jesus came down to see Joseph right then! They told him that he shouldn't join any church yet, because God's church wasn't on the earth anymore, but that He was getting ready to bring it back to the earth and that they'd tell Joseph more about that later.

(Song: Oh How Lovely Was the Morning)

So, Joseph went home to his house, and thought about what had happened. He didn't join any church. He did tell people what had happened to him though. He thought everyone would be happy to know what he'd been told, because he figured they were all as confused as he was. But, he was wrong about that. Many people were not happy about what Joseph said. They called him a liar, and were very cruel to him. His family still loved him though, and they believed him and were very loyal to him.

A while later, Joseph had a visitor from Heaven.

An angel named Moroni came to Joseph, and told him about some sacred records that were hidden near his home. Moroni explained to Joseph where they were, (buried in a hill, under a rock) and told him that the next day he was to go to that hill, move the rock, and find the records. Only, he wasn't to touch them unless when he did, the only thing on his mind was the work that he could do for Heavenly Father. This last part was important, because the records were written on plates (kind of like really heavy paper) made of pure gold, and Joseph's family were really poor. The angel didn't want Joseph to sell the plates or do anything foolish like that.

(Song: An Angel Came to Joseph Smith)

So, the next day (after spending pretty much all night listening to Moroni), Joseph went to get the plates. When he got to the spot, he found the plates, but the angel Moroni came again, and told him that Joseph wasn't ready to have the plates yet. Moroni taught Joseph some things, and then told Joseph to come back on the same day the following year.

That happened four more times, and then, after four years . . .

Joseph was able to take the plates home and begin translating them. Now, if he thought people where cruel to him before, he had no idea how bad things were going to get. Now people were trying to really hurt him, and maybe even kill him. And especially, lots of people wanted to get their hands on those valuable gold plates so they could sell them and get a lot of money for themselves. It was really really hard, but Joseph had faith, and his family had faith, and the other people who believed in the church had faith. Because of all that faith, and because of Heavenly Father's miracles, the plates were translated and the translation became the Book of Mormon.

(Song: The Golden Plates)

Well, as more people joined the church, it ended up that there were two places where most of the Mormons went. One of those places was a town called Kirtland Ohio, and another place was in Missouri. Around then, the Lord told Joseph Smith that He wanted the Saints to build a temple. So they did.

And then, the persecutions and everything got so bad, (so bad that the Governor of one of the states ordered his army to drive the Mormons out of the state and if they didn't go, to kill them) that the people had to leave Kirtland and Missouri, and move to a place in Illinois, a place that they called Nauvoo. After awhile, the Lord told them to build a temple there too.

Unlike the photo above, which is a picture of the actual structure built in the 1800s, this temple is a restored version of the Nauvoo temple, finished in 2002. The original structure was burned by arsonists in the 1800s

(Song: I Love to See the Temple)

For awhile, things were pretty good in Nauvoo, but then the persecutions started to come again, even worse than before.

They got so bad that Joseph Smith and his brother and two other men were put in jail again. Now, Joseph Smith had been in jail before this, but this was going to be his last time in jail. That's because while he was there, a bunch of men got their guns and painted their faces black (so that no one could recognize them) and joined together in an angry mob. Then, they marched up to the jail, and got inside and started shooting. There were a lot of them, and the prisoners didn't have any guns, so it wasn't very hard and it didn't take very long for them to kill both Joseph Smith and his brother Hyrum.

Now, that was a really hard time for those people. Everyone was really sad, and confused, and they didn't know what to do or who to follow, and it was just awful. Mainly though, everyone was just really really sad and discouraged that the prophet had been murdered.

Well, maybe not everyone. There were lots of people who were happy. Lots of people were tired of having the Mormons around, and they figured that now that Joseph Smith was dead, that Mormonism would die too.

But, they were wrong. I mean, look at all of us today! We're in countries all over the world, and there are millions and millions of us now.

That's because this isn't the Church of Joseph Smith of Latter-day Saints, and it's not the Church of Thomas S. Monson of Latter-day Saints, and it's not the church of any other mortal person of Latter-day Saints.

It is the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and Jesus Christ lives. Prophets are called and serve for awhile and then they die (or in Joseph's case, are murdered), but Jesus is resurrected and living and guiding His church, and He will keep on doing that for as long as there are people willing to follow Him.

(Song: Praise to the Man)

So anyway, back to our story . . .

Like I said, after Joseph Smith died, a lot of people were confused and concerned about who was going to be the new leader of the Church. But, Heavenly Father had taken care of everything. A little while before Joseph Smith went to the jail, Heavenly Father had told Joseph to organize the church, and to give the authority to lead the church to the twelve apostles, in the case that the prophet wasn't able to lead. So, when Joseph Smith died, Brigham Young, who was the senior member of the twelve apostles, became the new leader of the church.

Now, when the people who had killed Joseph Smith realized that the church was still going strong, they started persecuting the church members again. It was clear to Brigham Young, and to many others in the church, that it was time for the Saints to leave Nauvoo. But, where to go?

Well, Brigham Young had a vision, which is kind of like a dream that Heavenly Father gives you to teach you something. In the vision that Brigham Young had, he saw a valley that was in kind of a desert area between some really big mountains. He knew that this was where the Saints needed to go.

So, the Saints got some covered wagons and some handcarts, and all the things that they most needed, and they became pioneers, walking across America to get to the land that Brigham Young had seen.

(Song--whatever pioneer song strikes my fancy)

It was a hard journey, and sometimes it was really dangerous. It was a long journey too. It took several months.

It was so hard that a lot of people died on the way, and their families had to bury them on the plains. Other people got really sick, but they didn't die.

And then, in July of 1847, some of the men came into a desert valley that was in the middle of some really high mountains.

They were kind of excited, and so they ran back to Brigham Young to tell him about it. Brigham Young had caught a bad fever, and he was really really sick, but he knew he needed to see the valley. So, he went over to the place that the men had seen.

As he came to the area where he could see the valley, he recognized it from the vision that Heavenly Father had given him before. And then, he had another vision! While he was there in his wagon, looking over the valley, he was able to see into the future. He saw that someday the valley would be full of buildings and farmland and people, even though right then it was totally empty. He saw all that in his vision, and he saw the valley in real life, and he said to the others, "This is the right place. Drive on."

Salt Lake Valley in 1847

Salt Lake Valley now

So, they did. They drove on, and settled in that valley, and settled in valleys and hills throughout that whole area. They started farms and schools, and they laid the foundation for a new temple, and new homes, and new churches, and a whole new life.

And that life formed the basis for the life that millions of us live today. It's a good heritage to have, and one that I'm grateful to call my own.

(Song: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints)

a little one, a roaring one, and a mutant one

2011-10-01T06:56:00.000-06:00

Big news on the USoSL front!

We have a new member, as well as some more additions from some old-timers. One of the additions comes from my neck of the woods, by a person who doesn't even live in my neck of the woods. Shame on me!

Anyway, enough intro--let's get to the pics!

This little gem comes from Heather, and was taken at the Dahlem Environmental Education Center in Jackson Michigan. Isn't it adorable? Honestly, I would love to have a little guy like this in my front flower garden.

This fine specimen can be found in Logan, just northwest of the LDS temple there. Harmony found it for our viewing pleasure.

This one is also courtesy of Harmony, and can be found in American Fork, Utah. Turns out, Harmony's son (seven-years old) saw it on the way to a soccer game, and pointed it out. Is it weird of me to say that it warms my heart to see the lionspotting tradition passed on to a second generation? Harmony--please tell said son (whose name I'm not including here for his privacy) that he is now the youngest official member of USoSL.

(Also--Harmony has intimated that she might be able to get another lion shot, this one from Venice. When did Harmony go to Venice you ask? Never that I know of. But, she is currently hosting a foreign exchange student who took a family vacation there recently. So, we'll all watch and hope for that, won't we?)

This lion comes to us courtesy of Elder Packer, and is found in the Cheekwood Gardens, in Nashville Tennessee. It's pretty intriguing, don't you think?

made over

2011-09-28T07:31:00.000-06:00

A few years ago, the Pauni family in our community was on the receiving end of an Extreme Home Makeover. I wasn't directly involved, so my memory is kind of hazy, but I do remember it being a very big deal, one which involved a whole lot of monetary donations and donations of time and materials by people in Cache Valley. I remember it being a big unifying event in our community. Although the actual home that was made-over isn't exactly on any of my regular routes, almost every time I am in the general area where it all took place, I think back to that time.

Probably because of those memories, I've read with interest (and sadness) the accounts of other recipients--stories that aren't so happy. I've heard rumors of severely increased property taxes, second mortgages being taken out, even one possible foreclosure. I've read opinions of those who cast blame at Extreme Makeover: Home Edition (EMHE), hinting, or coming right out and saying, that if the homes weren't so over the top, they would serve the recipients better, and would avoid these kinds of problems.

To be perfectly frank, that view seems a little "gift horse-y" to me. In every episode of EMHE I've seen, I've witnessed a family in dire need of a better living situation get exactly that. I've seen local people come together and do the lion's share of the work to make that living situation a reality. I've seen wonder and awe and intense gratitude on the part of those who have given and those who have received. And, chances are extremely slim that any of it would have happened without the catalyst that is Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.

Sure, the homes are extravagant, and have bells and whistles that are so extreme that it's almost silly. But, that's why it's called EXTREME Makeover. That's also a big part of why millions of hobby home decorators tune in every week--to see the story unfold, but also to see what crazy decor and installations the designers will dream up and implement. Does a seven year old boy really need a sculptured waterfall in his bedroom or a concession stand complete with flavored oxygen in his basement? Probably not. But, people tune in to see that kind of stuff, and because they tune in, the show continues to run, and families and communities continue to reap big benefits because of it.

That's the main thing that I took from watching Episode 902/The Gomez Family. As I mentioned on the earlier post, the Gomez's live in the Salt Lake Valley, and are Mormons, so there was much in the episode that was very familiar to me. (The Gomez's even keep gratitude journals, which, while not necessarily a Mormon thing or a Utah thing, is definitely a Charlotte thing.) I loved seeing my mountains in nearly every outdoor shot. I was totally intrigued when the designers went out to Kennecott Mine, which happens to be the largest open pit copper mine in the world, and an employer that helped my dad earn his way through school, (with the help of my mom, and without any help from infant me). I was impressed that the decision was made to give the Gomez family an income property as well, to help with medical bills and living expenses (and increased property taxes?). I cried to the point of needing tissues at a certain spot which involved a certain soccer game, which I would love to tell you about, but I don't want to spoil the glorious surprise. They even managed to work in a plug for good old ancestry.com along the way, which I found both slightly humorous and totally brilliant.

Yes, there were moments that were a little (or a lot) cheesy. Yes, the show abounds with product placement at nearly every turn. But Jonah and Ellie Gomez aren't living in their grandma's basement anymore, and as of yesterday afternoon, I'm on my way to becoming a part of the Bone Marrow Match Registry.

Pretty good results, if you ask me.

Episode 902 of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition will be aired on CBS on Sunday, October 2.

(pauni week image courtesy of equea.com)

update from the backyard

2011-09-27T07:23:00.000-06:00

Remember back when I put some homemade washable paint on my monthly roundup and said that I wanted to try it sometime?

We did.

It was awesome.

The end.

(p.s. I should make it clear that those rocks were not painted with the homemade washable paint. They were actually painted on a previous painting activity, with those acrylic paints that you squeeze out of those little bottles. The homemade washable paint is more along the lines of sidewalk chalk in both texture, color, and durability. Just don't want anyone to be disappointed you know.)

I'm kind of a big deal (in case you haven't noticed)

2011-09-26T07:46:00.000-06:00

(What? You haven't noticed?)

* * *

So, a few weeks back, this guy from Extreme Home Makeover contacted me to see if I wanted to preview an upcoming episode. Turns out, this Sunday they're doing an episode where they highlight a Mormon family in the Salt Lake Valley, and more specifically a little boy, who has a super-rare (as in, he's the only kid who has been found to have it) blood disorder.

Naturally, I was flattered, and intrigued. So, we exchanged a few e-mails, and yesterday he sent me the rough version of the episode for me to view. (I'd share the link with y'all, but it's password-protected, and I'm forbidden to share it anyway, which I guess makes sense. Besides, anyone who wants to will be able to watch it on Sunday anyway.) I've watched about five minutes of it, and so far I'm really liking it, which is always a good sign.

So anyway, I'm hoping to get the rest of the episode watched either today or tomorrow, and then I'll post some of my thoughts shortly after that. They're not compensating me in any way to watch it or write about it, so you know, I don't really have a conflict of interest about it or anything like that.

Anyway, if you'll indulge me, I'd appreciate it. I mean, it's pretty cool, right? One day you're positing pictures of lions and hosting random musical competitions, and the next, you're previewing secret episodes of televisions shows on a major network. Can half-tees and basa body products be far behind? I think not! Watch out CJane, there's a new Mormon blogger in town!

(Anyone in Cache Valley wanna help me put on a Rooftop Concert Series?)

(Don't answer that--I am soooo kidding there. Me, put on a concert series? I think I'd rather stick a fork in my eye.)

It all boils down to love.

2011-09-23T07:44:00.000-06:00

Heather lives it up with Grandpa Deon and Grandma Helen

Many years ago, when I had been working at the festival (which is what my employer wants us to start calling the opera company now--since our official name is Utah Festival Opera & Musical Theatre, and calling it "the opera company" is intimidating to some people and they think they can't come see our shows because they don't like opera, which is silly because opera is kind of fun, and musicals, which we do every year are exceptionally fun) for only a few years, I met Deon and Helen.

At that time, I had no idea what a blessing that would turn out to be.

They both started working at the ~~opera~~ festival at the same time, Deon as a handy-man and Helen as a gardener, with both of them sharing janitorial tasks. I honestly don't remember the first time I met them, which seems a little odd to me now, but I guess that's how it goes sometimes.

Anyway, to make a long story full of details that are now hazy in my mind short, Deon and Helen and I became fast friends, and I started relying on them like a kind of local set of parents. They would both check in with me when we were in the office, and I would call them when I needed advice about plumbers, garbage disposals, and dentists. I still remember on that fateful September 11, my mom and I had driven to Denver to visit family, and when everything fell apart, Deon was very concerned that we were stranded somewhere (thinking that we had flown rather than driven). He asked around the office and eventually called me on my cell phone to make sure we were all right. That meant the world to me.

Those kinds of actions were pretty typical. I have been able to count on Deon and Helen since almost the first day I met them. It was Deon that I took with me to check out the townhome that we live in now (Eric and I weren't even dating yet back then). I still remember what he told me. "For the money, I don't know that you're going to find something that is a 'dolled up' as this one is." ('dolled up' referring to crown molding, laminate/tile floors, and nicer-than-average light fixtures.) It was Helen that I had on my most exclusive babysitting list. Perhaps that needs a bit of explanation.

Right after Heather was born, I started a list. Anytime anyone said, "If you ever need someone to watch that girl, you can call me", I put them on the list. It gave me a nice secure feeling to look at that list as I felt my old familiar pre-planned and perfectly within my control life slipping away. (Except, who am I kidding? Slipped away? That life was yanked away as soon as that little girl was born. (and I wouldn't have it any other way.)) Helen was/still is on that list.

However, there was another list. It was the "if I can't get any sleep and I'm panicking because I know I can't face another day feeling this tired and this out of control and I'm right at the edge of my sanity, then I know I can call these people and they will pretty much drop anything to help me out and take Heather so that I can get a nap." That list was naturally much shorter, because you really don't want everyone in the world to see you at your absolute scraping the bottom of the barrel of sanity low. It was very very short actually. But, Helen was on it.

These are just a few of the blessings have come into my life from this friendship. I could go on and on about conversations, and babysitting, and phone calls, and visits, and the moose on their wall and how Heather calls their house "the moose house" because of it, and more and more and more. But really, it all boils down to love. A whole lot of love that came my way at a time when I wasn't at all expecting it. A whole lot of love that I've had since then. A whole lot of love that I treasure more than I can say.

dreamin'

2011-09-21T07:10:00.000-06:00

I've thought of something else to add to my list of things that I would do if I had more money than I could possibly spend.

I'd buy 365 brand new sweatshirts and wear one every day.

(Even if I only wore it for the last 30 minutes of the day.)

There is just nothing like the feel of a brand new sweatshirt.

The End.

image courtesy of rikmd

on grace and piano lessons, and having Someone to pull with

2011-09-18T06:46:00.000-06:00

Awhile back, in response to this post, Harmony referred me to this talk (which can be read by clicking on the link back there, or viewed by clicking on the link here.)

The title of the talk is "His Grace is Sufficient" by Brad Wilcox, and as I read it, I found several points which were interesting and helpful to me. I've put a few of them below.

* * *

"Grace is not about filling gaps. [as in, the gaps between what our behavior is and what our behavior should be.] It is about filling us."

"Christ's arrangement with us is similar to a mom providing music lessons for her child. Mom pays the piano teacher . . . Because Mom pays the debt in full, she can turn to her child and ask for something. What is it? Practice! Does the child's practice pay the piano teacher? No. Does the child's practice repay Mom for paying the piano teacher? No. Practicing is how the child shows appreciation for Mom's incredible gift. It is how he takes advantage of the amazing opportunity Mom is giving him to live his life at a higher level. Mom's joy is found not in getting repaid but in seeing her gift used--seeing her child improve. And so she continues to call for practice, practice, practice."

Me-around age 8 or so.

"Some [Christians] are so excited about being saved that maybe they are not thinking enough about what comes next. They are so happy the debt is paid that they may not have considered why the debt existed in the first place. Latter-day Saints know not only what Jesus has saves us from but also what He has saved us for."

"The repenting sinner must suffer for his sins, but this suffering has a different purpose than punishment or payment. Its purpose is change." (Dallin H Oaks, emphasis in original)

"A life impacted by grace eventually begins to look like Christ's life." (Brett Sanders)

"While many Christians view Christ's suffering as only a huge favor He did for us, Latter-day Saints also recognize it as a huge investment He made in us." (Omar Canals)

"[In cases of falling short of perfect obedience to the commandments of God] there should never be just two options: perfection or giving up. When learning the piano, are the only options performing at Carnegie Hall or quitting? No. Growth and development take time. Learning takes time. When we understand grace, we understand that God is long-suffering, that change is a process, and that repentance is a pattern in our lives. When we understand grace, we understand that the blessings of Christ's Atonement are continuous and His strength is perfect in our weakness. When we understand grace, we can . . . continue in patience until we are perfected."

"Christ is not waiting at the finish line once we have done 'all we can do'. (2 Nephi 25:23) He is with us every step of the way."

"Grace is not a booster engine that kicks in once our fuel supply is exhausted. Rather, it is our constant energy source. It is not the light at the end of the tunnel but the light that moves us through the tunnel. Grace is not achieved somewhere down the road. It is received right here and right now. it is not a finishing touch; it is the Finisher's touch (see Hebrews 12:2). "

"Seek Christ, and, as you do . . .you will feel the enabling power we call His amazing grace. . . . I'm pulling for you, and I'm not the only one. parents are pulling for you, leaders are pulling for you, and prophets are pulling for you. And Jesus is pulling with you." (emphasis in original)

* * *

There's so much there that I really love, but I think my favorite is right there in the end. For nearly twenty years now, I've had a mental image that I go to at times when I feel overwhelmed or afraid. It's a scene of a sailboat in a storm. The storm is dark and dangerous and scary, and I'm the only one in the boat. Since I don't know how to sail, it's a pretty grim situation. But then, I look up to the front (bow? stern?) of the boat, and see that I'm not the only one in the boat, because Christ is there, with his masterful sailing talent and perfect love to boot. Then I know I'm going to be just fine, that I'm safer in that boat in the crazy storm than I would ever be on dry land.

Image from Wikimedia Commons

When I read that last sentence, the image changes to one of two of us, Christ and me, pulling on the ropes (rigging?) of the boat, steering out of danger and getting us to where we want to be.

Adventures in the Kitchen

2011-09-13T19:46:00.000-06:00

In case you haven't noticed, I've been trying to be more healthy in our foods around here.

To the point that I make my own yogurt weekly.

To the point that I use wheat flour in most of my baking.

To the point that (gasp) we don't keep Diet Pepsi in the house anymore, and instead use the slightly less-caffeinated and significantly less sodiumed Crystal Light Energy powder.

But, I reached my zenith as well as the bottom of my barrel a bit ago, when (following a recipe touted by my cousin Mary Ann), I made eggplant burgers.

The following two pictures pretty much sum up our experience with that.

Let's just say that it will be a long long long long long long long long long time before another eggplant burger graces a table in our home.

In fairness to Mary Ann, she often posts recipes that I find utterly delicious, which is why I had high hopes for the eggplant burgers. Here are a few of my favorites:

Roasted Green Cabbage Wedges
Malted Whole-Wheat Chocolate Chip Cookies
Hummus
Guacamole Hummus

random musings of "a theatre person" at the end of a gloriously fabulous day

2011-09-10T20:59:00.000-06:00

We just returned home from a little jaunt to Salt Lake City where we saw the touring production of Mary Poppins, accompanied by my parents and brother and sister-in-law.

I loved it.

Several of us were worried when we saw one of those dreaded slips in our programs--the slip that told us that our actress that was playing Mary Poppins wasn't the regular actress. We needn't have feared though. She was marvelous.

There was a little girl, (not much older than Heather) sitting in front of us, and while she seemed to enjoy the show, I kind of marveled at the thought that someone would shell out Broadway Musical bucks for a girl to see a show that would probably have about the same impact on her as would a community theatre production, or even a movie. (To each their own though.)

As Eric and I were leaving the theatre, he remarked that it was "a little over the top" for him, and "a theatre person's dream". He hastened to say he enjoyed it though, (once I gave him a quizzical look).

I don't really think of myself as "a theatre person", but I suppose according to Eric's definition, I am. I absolutely loved it. There's even tap dancing! How often do you get to see tap dancing anymore?

Heck, there was upside down tap dancing!

I could gush a little more, and give all the details of what everyone else said, and elaborate on how the man that played Mr. Banks reminded me of a guy I used to work with, and how after the show Eric lugged a box full of nine bottles of pears for three blocks because my mom brought them for us (at my request) but we weren't parked in the same place, and how disappointed I am that my favorite Capitol Theatre parking lot is now only available in the afternoons, because in the evening it is used for valet parking for Ruth's Chris Steakhouse . . .

But really, I think I've said enough for today.

(Thanks Becca, for the excellent recommendation)

Merry Christmas to Me!

2011-09-10T07:42:00.000-06:00

Oh yeah! Another lion picture (complete with fountain)

here!

. . . just a little bit of quirky-ness

Random Photo Friday--devotion and drawings

Being a Mom is the Bomb

Christmas Report--the Southern Utah Aftermath

Christmas Report--the Day

Christmas Report--The Eve

Robot Hero Guardian Archive: File # 112011

Brigitte

little culinary gifts

decibel danger

Random Photo Friday--Bedtime Reading

chestnut, walnut, or ebony?

Baby, it's (freaking!) cold outside.

Eric beats Santa in popularity, and the Kitchen Caper

Jake CorryMy conversation this morning at breakfastMe: Nader, guess who's coming in two more days?Spencer: Uncle Eric?!?

Jake Corry

My conversation this morning at breakfastMe: Nader, guess who's coming in two more days?Spencer: Uncle Eric?!?

Random Christmas Goodness

Random Photo--Retirement PSYCHE! edition

Uno mas Robot Hero Guardian

Ornament Show and Tell

It's Frozen Over

evergreen delight

thirty-nine

too kind

Random Photo--semi-silent inhabitants edition

Jam vs. Tamales--the holiday battle

Glorious Grand Junction--Part Three (and Final)

only three

Random Photo-a narrow escape edition

Jumping on the Bandwagon--a little late, and a little sheepishly

Gratitude MY EYE!

this gratitude entry deserves its own post

Glorious Grand Junction--Part Two

Glorious Grand Junction-Part One

Thanks-giving (for Christ)

environmentalists beware

three for the price of one

"We're in trouble, Elmo"

there are no squibs

. . . just in case yesterdays offering didn't get you "feelin' groovy" . . .

I know you've all been waiting for it . . .

Random Picture Post-bygones edition

a few random thoughts

a requiem of sorts

Can You Find the Stone(ish) Lion in this Shot?

Random Photo-Please Tell Me You Think This is as Funny as I Do edition

Having a Wonderful Time, Wish You Were Here

random photo-gardens and eden edition

Back Again!! The Monthly Round-up, October Edition

Well, hello there!

As far as I'm concerned, This is more of an excuse for me to post three freaking adorable pictures of Daxton than anything else, but we'll call it a USoSL post anyway.

another appearance of the random picture post

so, to continue with that thought . . .

True Confessions

Circles

Dery Own!

Another Scrapbook-esque Entry - (calling a spade a spade)

And it's the documentation of yet another kid craft!

hands-on & focused

Sweet Domesticity

A Pioneer Day Bedtime Story

a little one, a roaring one, and a mutant one

made over

update from the backyard

I'm kind of a big deal (in case you haven't noticed)

It all boils down to love.

dreamin'

on grace and piano lessons, and having Someone to pull with

Adventures in the Kitchen

random musings of "a theatre person" at the end of a gloriously fabulous day

Merry Christmas to Me!

Jake Corry
My conversation this morning at breakfast
Me: Nader, guess who's coming in two more days?
Spencer: Uncle Eric?!?

My conversation this morning at breakfast
Me: Nader, guess who's coming in two more days?
Spencer: Uncle Eric?!?