11-11-11

Have you met Erin? She's one of those gorgeous, multi-talented people that I would totally hate if she weren't so darn sweet. The only thing I've got on her is that my NaNoWriMo word count is higher than hers. And since copying is a form of flattery, I'm going to copy Erin's idea for today's unusual date.

11 Things I'm Grateful For:

1. Hot Chocolate on cold days. Warms the body and the soul.
2. Chubby-armed hugs and sloppy kisses. Nothing can turn my mood around faster.
3. Being able to be here to send the kids off to school and when they get home. A lot of my friends don't have this opportunity and I admit that some days, I take it for granted.
4. Friends that are equally as a dorky as I am. It's much more fun to let my freak flag fly when I'm in good company. (And when they get all my Doctor Who references…)
5. Zumba. I don't like exercise but this is more like getting in touch with my inner sexy Latina dancer. Sure, I look like a drunken monkey but I don't care! It's fun!
6. The Nephew. I'll have to write a post introducing him but he's only been here a short while and already has made himself indispensable.
7. Naptime. It's a nice break when the kids are sleeping (and I can eat my chocolate without having to share) but even better when I get to lay down, too. My pillow has it's own irresistible siren song.
8. Parents, including in-laws. They're such great examples and help me whenever I ask. Sometimes my big, huge problems can easily be brought down to perspective with just one phone conversation.
9. The Kiddos. There was a time when I was told I'd never be a mother. Each one of my three little ones is a miracle. And not just because they're here, but because they seem to actually like me and laugh at my jokes.
10. The Man. Not only is he basically my perfect match, but he supports me every November when I get the urge to abandon home and family in order to write a book, even when I refuse to let him read it.
11. Jesus Christ, my Savior. Too often I let it go unsaid, but I am so very grateful for His example and sacrifice.

What are you grateful for today?

His Sacred Name

If the video gets cut off, view it here.

Happy Easter!

My Creche

Sorry for the lack in posting. Internet access has been less than sparse lately. I hope everyone had a very merry Christmas and was able to spend time with loved ones. Blessed enough to be with both sides of the family, my cup definitely runneth over.

I love decorating for the holidays. Easter is all about the Peeps and one day I am going to re-enact my favorite scene from Phantom of the Opera using an all Peep cast. Halloween is perfect for spiders but I also love using candy corn. In my younger days, I even painted my nails to match the trio of stripes. Christmas is all about the candy, too. Candy wreath, candy garland, and gingerbread everything else. But my favorite decorations are the nativities I've collected over the years. Too much focus is placed on material things this time of year and I like to remind myself the real reason for the season: celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ.

This was a "free with purchase gift" a few years ago. I love it because it is one of the few I've seen that features a cow.

A gift from a friend. It looks like the figures don't have faces but I promise they do.

My oldest set was a wedding gift from the Man's grandmother. It has so many pieces and I find myself always rearranging the animals. Well, I say I'm rearranging...really I'm just playing with them.

Maybe I should just play with this one instead. I leave this set on the kids' table and let them play with it however they'd like (it also keeps their hands off my more delicate sets). This was carefully placed by da Boo for my photo.

My favorite decoration is not a nativity, although it does feature Christ.

Wise men still seek him. Merry Christmas!

What Shall We Give?

I loved this video from Mormon Messages. (And once again proved that my mascara is NOT waterproof.) President Monson expresses it far better than me.

Merry Christmas!

May God bless you and yours.

Fruits of Forgiveness - Revisited

**I may or may not be out of town currently...but if I am out of town, be assured that my house and property is protected by rabid dust bunnies. So you don't get too lonely, I'll be reposting a few of my favorites. This post originally appeared Sunday, Feb 18, 2007. It was my fourth post when I first started this blog.**


The topic for today's Sacrament talks: Forgiveness. The speakers had some good points (at least from what I heard between dispensing of Teddy Grahams and Time Outs). So it got me thinking...is there anyone I should forgive? Is there a grudge that I cherish too much to part with? The answers to both questions: Yes!

So I am going to offer my forgiveness twice. And if you aren't on the list, then send me chocolate and perhaps you'll make it next Sunday.

1) I forgive da Boo's preschool friend who asked me when my baby was due. My response - after my initial instinct to run weeping and wailing to the farthest corner of the playground - was a gentle "I'm not having a baby, sweety. I'm just fat." She's just a kid! And as such, still has the possibility of finding herself in the exact same dress size one day (I so believe in karma).

2) I forgive the banana. Well, not all bananas, just one. The one that I was eating in the backyard that fateful day...the one with it's tiny black seeds oh-so carefully arranged in a frowny face. That banana permanently turned me off to the yellow-skinned evil for years. Until today.

Today, in honor of the banana's new status of "Forgiven," I made a banana cake. For Christmas, one of the man's co-workers gave us a loaf of banana bread. Now, I've never had anything against banana bread. It never gave me a dirty look. This particular banana bread was beyond tasty. I got the recipe. Okay, so I made the man do all the gross stuff, like touching and peeling the bananas, mashing and mixing them, but I did the rest (and da Boo helped by stirring a bowl of flour for 10 minutes). Had to make it acceptable by adding a quick chocolate glaze but it was very good. I even ate a piece.

But I'm still not eating a full banana. Not even one dipped in chocolate.

Christmas Message

President Hunter gave this advice during the first Christmas Devotional in 1994. I received this fabulous rendering of those priceless words many years ago, as part of the Relief Society's Christmas present to all the women. The message touched me so much that I've kept it with my Christmas decorations. I decided I needed to share it with others. And I tried to find out who the artist was but no one would fess up.

Hope you are having a very merry Christmas!

FHE: I Am Sorry

The Man and da Boo switched teaching responsibilities last week so she got her chance this week, while the Man is out of town. We had Aunt Denise and Grandma here to help us.

Opening Song: Grandma suggested one that the kids didn't know. Once There Was A Snowman was her second choice.

Opening Prayer: Aunt Denise.

Lesson: Da Boo and I looked through my FHE binder and she picked one based purely on the pictures I had...kinda like judging a book by it's cover. She chose "I can say I'm sorry." I coached her on sharing the story that went with the pictures and she told the story pretty much by herself. I originally got the pictures from here, here and here. I colored them, wrote a few lines from the story on the back of each picture and have used them several times. It's an easy enough story for the kids to follow. And they can relate to it. I am kinda paraphrasing here...find the full story here.

Matt and Travis are playing with Matt's toys. Travis really, really likes Matt's toys and wishes they were his. He decides to take the toys without asking and hides them in his pocket. But later on, when he's playing with the toys at home, Travis isn't having much fun. He feels bad inside. His mother asks him what is wrong and he admits he took the toys without asking. She tells him that what he did was wrong and he needs to find a way to make it right again. Travis wants to give the toys back but he doesn't want his friend to be mad at him. Travis' mom says that even if Matt is angry, Travis still needs to do the right thing. Travis takes the toys back, tells Matt he is sorry and promises not to do it again. Matt is glad to have his toys back and forgives Travis for taking them. Travis feels happy again. Saying he was sorry helped take away those bad feelings he had about what he did.

After she told the story, I said that there is a story in the Scriptures where someone does wrong and must say he is sorry for what he did. But I am constantly surprised at what she already knows. My 'teaching moment' went something like this:

Me: There was a man who a little bit naughty and did some not-so-nice things. His name was Alma the Younger.
Boo: Didn't he try to destroy the Church?
Me: Ummm...yes.
Boo: And he saw an angel.
Me: ...yes...
Boo: But then he was a nice guy.
Me: Yes, and that's the story. The end.

We talked a little more about how Alma had to tell the people he was sorry for the things he said and did, he tried to make things right again. She already knew this and just nodded encouragingly to me the whole time. Punk.

Closing Song: Jesus Wants Me For a Sunbeam.

Closing Prayer: Da Boo insisted she get to bless the treats.

Treats: Now, from the beginning of FHE, the Boy was in Time Out. I have a rule: if you're not going to be reverent and listen to the prayer, then you go to time out until it's over. So he was sitting in the corner, pouting. Several times, I tried to get him to come back and join us, but he'd rather stick his nose back in the corner and keep on whining. Then, just before the closing prayer, I revealed our treat for the evening: Cold Stone ice cream. Almost immediately, he was seated quietly in his chair, smiling and happy, arms folded and ready for the prayer. I did a double-take. Apparently I not only underestimate the teachings of the Primary, but also the happiness-altering powers of ice cream.

I Miss My Mom

Do you have those days when you miss your mother? If your mom lives close by, then you probably don't have the chance to miss her, but my mom lives 2,000 miles away. We don't get to see each other as often as I'd like. Maybe it's because I'm looking forward to seeing her at the end of the month or maybe it's because I haven't been feeling so hot the past few days or because the Man's mom is visiting...or maybe it's just that I haven't seen her since last summer. I miss my mom.

My mother is amazing. If you knew me when I was a teenager (and a lot of you did), then you know how difficult I made her job. I still do not know how she did it all and having kids myself, I really don't know! But every time I miss my mom, I think of my favorite Mom memory...

I was a kid. We lived in Colorado. With seven kids, there wasn't a lot of extra money. However, my mom always seemed to find enough cash for the occasionally DQ Blizzard for us to share or maybe even lunch out. The ideal lunch spot was The Hamburger Stand. It was an A-framed building that was mainly a drive-thru. They were a popular place because they offered hamburgers for 29 cents. And when you have seven kids, that's doable.

One afternoon, we piled in the huge maroon van and headed out for lunch. It was special treat and we were very excited, hopping all over the place (weren't there seatbelt laws then?) and just generally being crazy. After placing our order, my mom pulled up to pay at the window. It was about this time that we noticed the car behind us. Inside, were two young men. They wore white shirts, neckties and black name badges. Now, it Utah, it's not a big deal to see missionaries because there are so many wards and therefore, several sets of elders (and sisters), but in Colorado, it was very rare. We went wild! My brother and I leapt over the backseat and proceeded to wave like crazy out the window. They probably thought we were nuts (and they wouldn't be far off).

Mom: What did the car behind us order?
Window Lady: Just two 29 cent burgers.
Mom: I'd like to pay for their lunch but let's change their order to two combos with the larger burgers. Sprite to drink.
Window Lady: You want to...what?
Mom: I'd like to pay for their lunch but let's make it a better one.
Window Lady: Okay...?

We squealed and giggled! As we slowly pulled away, we saw the looks on the elders' faces as Window Lady tried to hand them a much larger bag of food. We couldn't hear the conversation, but I imagine they frantically tried to explain that this was the wrong order, that they couldn't pay for this much food. But the Window Lady insisted, even pointing toward our departing van as she explained.

Every now and then, when I'm in a drive-thru, sometimes I pay for the car behind me. I usually do it if the car has a woman driver, especially if it's a young mother with a carload of kids, who look like they are driving her crazy as they strain against their carseats.

Yep. I miss my mom.

What is your favorite Mom Memory?

The Scariest Experience Part Two

Read the first part here, if you missed it.

Okay...where was I? Oh yes, shaking with tremendous nervousness...

Before I get too far into the story, here's one other thing you should know about me: I hate door-to-door solicitations. I have three reasons 1) I've been scammed twice 2) I have a really hard time saying no to anything and 3) I am so completely paranoid of anyone I don't know. I used to have a "No Solicitors" sign by the front door but it was removed and hidden in the bushes, by a salesman, I'm guessing. And anyone with small children will tell you just how hard it is to not answer the door, once the kids have heard it. They going running to the door, yelling for me at the top of their lungs, and will frequently hold conversations with the visitor through the door.

It was a typical evening, not at all dark and stormy, though it was rather chilly. I'm getting dinner ready and the doorbell rings.

*Groan*

It's prime time for solicitors. Sure enough, standing on the front step is a young man wearing a jacket with the name of our phone company. But he doesn't want to sell me anything, no ma'am. He just wants to make sure we are getting the most benefits with our current package. I play the "naive lil' housewife" card and say I know nothing about our phone but if he'd like to talk to my husband, I expect him home shortly. He promises to return and leaves. I think nothing of it and head back to the kitchen.

Two hours later, doorbell. I was in the middle of making dessert so the Man answers. It's the phone company rep again. The Man goes outside to talk to him and I get back to making my caloric overload. It's been nearly half an hour when the Man comes back inside. He's going to make some changes to the phone. I insist that he invite the guy in because it's nearly freezing outside. He does and soon we are all seated at the kitchen table with plates of warm cinnamon braid and milk. As he reworks our phone plan, he casually makes remarks about how he likes the idea of Family Home Evening (our FHE assignment board hangs right there) and asks what we do during them. We chat a little about family and such. He is a long way from home (a Texan, no less!) and too young to have a family of his own.

The phone changes are made, paperwork is signed and yet, he stays. Maybe it was my cinnamon braid or maybe it was the falling temperature outside or maybe it was the constant flow of questions he had about the Church, families, Jesus Christ and prophets. I tried to answer without preaching, just stating our beliefs. Of course, I'm getting nervous, so I'm stammering and shaking a little, the Man fills in as necessary. Why am I getting nervous? It's just a conversation! But I know why...because there's a warm spot growing in my gut. I can feel the Spirit in the room. Even the kids are behaving. And I can't get the thought of that lonely Book of Mormon out of my head.

At one point, after answering questions about the Book of Mormon's origins, I ask if he has read it. He says no, he doesn't have one.

"Would you like one?" and there it is...the moment of truth.

"Yes," he replies with a smile.

A moment later, I hand him the copy from the dresser. He smiles and thanks me. He holds it for a little longer, looking at the cover, then he puts it away and asks how he can find a chapel closest to where he lives.

After he leaves, I begin to doubt. Was it real? Was he sincere? Is it some contest he and his roommate are having, see how many Books of Mormon they can get while here in Utah? But he was the one asking the questions, not me. He continued the conversation after dessert was finished. And I cannot deny that the Spirit was present.

I wish I had a happy ending. I wish I could tell you that we just received his baptism announcement or have seen him at church. But the truth is, we never heard from him again. I don't know if he is back in Texas, if he read the Book or if he even remembers our discussion. So I keep him in my prayers and continue making my cinnamon braid, whether or not it converts strangers.

One Book down. One to go...

The Scariest Experience

It was a dark and stormy night...

Just kidding. It's not that kind of scary. It's the kind where your soul is nervous; not where you fear for your mortality but for the eternity of someone else.

I don't think I would have made a good missionary. In fact, I am pretty sure I would have been awful. But my papers were ready to go. All I needed was the dentist to sign off on my teeth (I don't have my lower wisdom teeth so there was nothing to be extracted). Still, I hesitated. Then I met the Man and my paperwork was forgotten. Sometimes I still wish I had been a missionary, to have lived the gospel and the scriptures every day for 18 months. I know I have a testimony but I think I wanted the devotion.

I've gotta explain something here: When I get nervous, I shake. If I'm nervous enough, it's like I'm having convulsions. I feel sorry for the anesthesiologist whenever I'm about to have surgery. And if I am really nervous, I start to cry. And we all knows what happens when I start crying...no one can understand a word I am saying. Yeah...so there's the background. I'll just say that I have never, ever been so nervous as when I am trying to tell someone about the Church, trying to tell a little of what I know to be true.

I have tried to share the gospel before. It's something that is so precious to me, how could I not want to share? I tried telling my best friend about it when we were freshmen in high school. Her response was to invite me to her youth group where her church leaders proceeded to explain to everyone why Mormons have it all wrong. We didn't stay friends much longer (but that could also be because she stole my boyfriend...). Then in college, I tried again with a best friend. She met with the missionaries, asked a few questions but that was it. I felt like a failure. At least we are still close. I went to see her and another good friend a little while ago. Before the trip, I bought a Book of Mormon to give for each of them. I prayed about it, thought about it the entire trip but in the end, I just didn't feel right about giving those books at that time. I couldn't. Completely chickened out. I packed the books back into my luggage and hid them in my dresser when I got home.

But still, I found myself wanting to give them to someone...seemed so lonely hiding there, without anyone reading through, finding the scriptures that spoke to them, no one to say "Yes! This is what I have felt all along! Finally!" So I prayed again...hoping to find the books a good home.

To be continued....

We Thank Thee, O God, For a Prophet

President Gordon B. Hinckley, head of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, modern-day prophet, died Sunday, January 27 in his apartment in Salt Lake City.

I heard the news as I was walking down the stairs in my house. Desperately, I wanted to cry. I wanted to shed tears over a man who has meant so much in my life. I wanted to mourn the loss. But I couldn't. All I could think was "He's with his wife, now. He and Marjorie are together again." And really? That made me smile.

Quotes from a Prophet:

"Every man who truly loves a woman and every woman who truly loves a man hopes and dreams that their companionship will last forever. But marriage is a covenant sealed by authority. If that authority is of the state alone, it will endure only while the state has jurisdiction, and that jurisdiction ends with death. But add to the authority of the state the power of the endowment given by Him who overcame death, and that companionship will endure beyond life if the parties to the marriage live worthy of the promise." (First Presidency Message, Liahona Magazine, July 2003).

“People are not without hope. Everybody ought to recognize that in the most dire circumstances there is an element of hope, that people can recover from what they have done, that they can do better, that they can turn around, that they can improve and increase their happiness by so doing” (press interview regarding Standing for Something, 11 Feb. 2000).

“I have been interviewed by various reporters. The one thing they say is, ‘Now what is going to be your theme during your presidency?’ I simply say, ‘The same theme which I have heard repeated in this Church by the Presidents of the Church and the Apostles for as far back as I can remember: Live the gospel, and everyone who does so will receive in his heart a conviction of the truth of that which he lives’ ” (Tacoma, Washington, regional conference, 20 Aug. 1995).

Parable of the Cannery

I went to the Cannery this morning. A few weeks ago, I went to for Dry Pack, which is when you can dry items, like flour, black beans, dry milk, etc. This time, it was Wet Pack. And Wet Pack is a very good description, too. The product? Applesauce.

When we first arrive, we wash hands and they give us gloves, a plastic apron and a color-coded hairnet. For the apples, I was placed at the conveyor belt for coring (if they try to put me anywhere else, I usually ask to switch, on account o' my Bionic Woman-ness). So I'm at this nearly chest-high table (might be lower on taller people but I'm kinda stubby) with several belts moving in different directions. The person I replace gives me a quick lesson on what we're supposed to do and then she gets to leave. So the lady tells me that we're taking off any visible skin blemishes (but bruises are okay) and coring out the bottom of the apple, where the blossom is, saving as much as you can. Finished apples go on the highest belt, lower belt has apples that need work and garbage goes in the outside tract. Then she hands me a prison shank. Well, not really but that's what it looked like: a metal spoon that's been sharpened to a point.

It's pretty loud in there so I can't really carry on a conversation with the people beside me so I start humming the last song that was on the radio. Hmmmm...that was Prince's "Little Red Corvette." Maybe not the best song for this setting. So I switched to the song I was listening to last on the computer, which was "Come, Come Ye Saints." Much better. Now focused properly, I get to work.

So here's where the parable starts.

As I'm coring, I'm noticing the different apples. They aren't all the same kind or the same size. Some are pretty bruised, misshapen, or not quite ripe yet. Some would look at home sitting on a favorite teacher's desk. Then I take the shank to 'em. The bruised apples are battered and not too pretty but the fruit inside is good. Some the apples have large blemishes that are only skin-deep and don't affect the fruit. Others have a small mark that leads to lots of foul gunk inside. Then there are the ones that look perfect but once I get the bottom core out, I see that it is entirely rotten.

The bruised apples are those that have been mistreated, had it rough but are still good despite it all. I think we all know someone who had not such a great life but is a great person.

Blemishes that look bad to the viewer might be those that have been harshly judged for their mistakes. Like the unmarried mother who is shunned by the others at Church. But inside? She's still good.

Even the small sins can lead to big time bad for a person. Don't think that "oh, just this once" isn't going to affect anything.

And the beautiful ones...they certainly look like they have it all. But through some unseen method, they have gone bad. Maybe they were good enough at hiding the sin that no one noticed. It certainly never showed on the outside but it's still there, rotting them inside. Interesting how much the world values the physical beauty and not so much what's on the inside (looking at you, movie stars!).

And then there's the worker. It takes time to prepare the apples and it certainly takes effort. While I was there, I never tossed out an entire apple. No matter how bad it looked from the outside or the inside, I set to work to save as much fruit as possible. And isn't that what the Lord does? No matter what condition you are in, no matter how deep the sin goes, He is still going to make the effort to remove the filth and save all that is good about you.

100

Hey! Guess what? This is my 100th post! I know, I can hardly believe it, either! Blogger tradition has it that you must post 100 things about yourself. Seriously, 100? I don't think there are that many things about me...and only about 13 1/2 that are somewhat interesting. But you know how I love talking about me so here goes:

(and you thought some of my London posts were long!)

1. I've never broken a bone in my body.


2. I've never had my wisdom teeth removed (because I don't have any on the bottom).


3. I was born blonde. I LOVED being blonde.


4. Thirty years and two kids later, it was "dishwater blonde" and I've always hated that name. Sounds so ugly.
   
5. Now I'm a brunette, courtesy of my hair stylist.


6. My mom always cut my hair when I was a kid and always did a great job. Never had a weird haircut.
   
7. My first paid haircut was just before my high school graduation. And really? It was just a trim.
   
8. I like having long hair, I just don't know what to do with it. Can't get my hair into those really cute styles everyone else seems to manage just fine. I never was good with hair. My daughter is doomed.
   
9. My husband prefers brunettes, but when he met me, I was actually a red-head.


10. Got red hair from buying a "temporary" hair dye at Wal-Mart. It was supposed to be "Medium Brown #9." It wasn't.


11. My roommate's boyfriend dyed my hair for me. Maybe that's why it turned red...


12. Enough about my hair already! Geesh, you'd think I was obsessive or something.


13. I'm not obsessive.
    
14. I am utterly paranoid.


15. Seriously.


16. In fact, I should be on medication.
    
17. Actually, I *was* on medication. Had to stop taking it because that stuff - as wonderful and lovely as it made my outlook on life - doesn't mesh well with babies.


18. I really, really want another baby.


19. I am not pregnant.


20. If I were pregnant, believe me, I would tell you immediately.


21. I am horrible at keeping wonderful, happy secrets; like being pregnant or what Santa is bringing.


22. While pregnant and having pregnancy cravings, I never once sent my husband out in the middle of the night to tend to my cravings. Kinda wish I had.


23. With da Boo, I got vertical stretchmarks. All over my torso and legs.


24. With the Boy, I got horizontal stretchmarks on my belly.


25. I am now plaid.


26. I worry about what the next kid's stretchmarks will look like.


27. I have a warped sense of body image. Hey, I know I'm not "slender" but when I see pictures of myself (especially from behind), I can't believe that that is really how I look.


28. My husband thinks I'm beautiful and that is enough.


29. I married my perfect match. I regularly pat myself on the back for that one. "Good job!"
    
30. Once I realized he was not just any ordinary geek, I totally stalked him until he gave in and asked me out, probably just so I would stop hanging around all the time.


31. It took two dates but by then, I had him.


32. I broke up with him ten minutes before he pulled out the engagement ring.


33. If fact, my family was telling me to break it off.
    
34. Even got a detailed email from my dad on how to break up with him, how to act whenever I saw him after that, etc.


35. I deleted it before I finished reading it.


36. Kinda wish I had kept it. Would be funny to include a copy of that with the next baby announcement.


37. I have a really, really good marriage.


38. We hardly ever fight.


39. When we do fight, it's usually because I am being selfish or he's got his priorities set different than mine.


40. I'm not a good fighter.


41. I cry too easily when I'm angry.


42. Once I start crying, my brain stops working and I can no longer function properly.


43. This is possibly the same reason why I don't publically share my testimony all that often. My testimony of Christ and the restored gospel is a very personal thing and it gets me all teared up.


44. Even now, just thinking about it, I'm getting kinda misty.
    
45. I believe Jesus Christ is my Savior.


46. I believe He was on this earth as an example for mankind, a guide to show us our Heavenly Father's plan.


47. I believe that Christ and God have not left us alone, far from it.
    
48. I believe that Gordon B. Hinckley is a prophet of God, and as such, receives guidance from Him.
    
49. I am proud to be a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.


50. Despite all my claims as a writer and numerous competitions in speech, I still don't know how to share these things with friends, family, and others I meet.


51. I wish I were a better member of the church, a better person.


52. I try.


53. Sometimes, I know I need to try harder.
    
54. I am re-reading the Book of Mormon.
    
55. I don't understand some of it. And it's okay that I don't understand it.
    
56. My husband is an endless font of information, knowledge and wisdom. He helps me understand.


57. His knowledge almost makes me wish I had served a mission for the church. I had my mission papers ready to go...then I met a certain percussionist.


58. And don't tell anyone this but I actually like substituting for the teachers in the Primary.
    
59. I love my kids more than I ever thought possible.


60. I am really, really lucky to have such great kids.
    
61. My daughter is beautiful and very smart. She gets these traits from her father.
    
62. My son is adorable and curious. He doesn't talk much. ALSO from his father.


63. I wonder which parts of themselves they get from me.


64. I hope they didn't get my temper.


65. Cooking is not my forte.


66. There are about five dinners I make fairly well that you will always be served at my house. Anything not on that short list is a complete gamble. You may be asked to sign a waiver at the door.


67. I can, however, bake like nobody's business.


68. I also decorate cakes.


69. I really, really love decorating cakes.


70. I love the smell of my buttercream frosting. I'd wear it as perfume if I could.


71. I think my frosting tastes pretty dang good.
    
72. If you tell me you don't like my frosting, I just might charge you next time you ask me to make a cake.


73. I stress out too much over little problems with my cakes.


74. I really stress out over BIG problems with my cakes.


75. My collection of cake pans and paraphernalia just might take over my entire pantry. And I wouldn't have it any other way. Who needs a place to store the rice and pasta? My fondant roller and springform pans need SPACE!


76. I graduated from Brigham Young University.


77. Also went to East Texas State University (where the only good thing was my roommate) and University of North Texas (got hit on more by women than by men).


78. Got a BA in Communications, Print Journalism emphasis.


79. I also am just four credits short of a BA in English.


80. Those credits are for a foreign language. Not gonna happen.


81. School was fun. I love learning and I liked making good grades (low self-esteem, need constant reassurance).


82. Sometimes I miss it, so I occasionally sign up for a class (mostly craft stuff).


83. I was so nervous about finally graduating and getting out into the "real" world that I delayed graduation for another semester and took two classes just for fun.


84. Those two classes were Calligraphy and Opinion Writing.


85. So now when I write my opinion on something, I can make it look pretty.


86. I have a LOT of opinions.


87. Sometimes I wish I weren't so opinionated and judgemental.


88. I like to brag.


89. Goes with my low self-esteem.


90. My biggest dream left unfulfilled is publishing a book.


91. I've written four books.


92. Only one is anywhere near finished.


93. That book is much too personal to me to ever let anyone read...except, of course, if you promise to never tell me anything you think about it that might make me cry and only if you like werewolves...and crazy people.


94. I've entered National Novel Writing Month three times.


95. I've won three times. I brag about this a LOT but it's not what you might think.


96. Sometimes I get ideas for a plot or a character and these ideas will keep me up at night, distract me all day, and basically make me mindless until I get them down on paper in some form.


97. I think I can write...and then I read someone else's stuff and think maybe I should crawl back into literary oblivion and eat my weight in chocolate.


98. I have more than a passing interest in all things chocolate.


99. I strongly believe that white chocolate is in the same category as Hitler, the DMV, and kidney stones.


100. I can't believe I made it all this way and never once mentioned my metal shoulder! Ooops...well, no more space so you'll just have to silently envy my ability to set off metal detectors.

Fruits of Forgiveness

The topic for today's Sacrament talks: Forgiveness. The speakers had some good points (at least from what I heard between dispensing of Teddy Grahams and Time Outs). So it got me thinking...is there anyone I should forgive? Is there a grudge that I cherish too much to part with? The answers to both questions: Yes!

So I am going to offer my forgiveness twice. And if you aren't on the list, then send me chocolate and perhaps you'll make it next Sunday.

1) I forgive da Boo's preschool friend who asked me when my baby was due. My response - after my initial instinct to run weeping and wailing to the farthest corner of the playground - was a gentle "I'm not having a baby, sweety. I'm just fat." She's just a kid! And as such, still has the possibility of finding herself in the exact same dress size one day (I so believe in karma).

2) I forgive the banana. Well, not all bananas, just one. The one that I was eating in the backyard that fateful day...the one with it's tiny black seeds oh-so carefully arranged in a frowny face. That banana permanently turned me off to the yellow-skinned evil for years. Until today.

Today, in honor of the banana's new status of "Forgiven," I made a banana cake. For Christmas, one of the man's co-workers gave us a loaf of banana bread. Now, I've never had anything against banana bread. It never gave me a dirty look. This particular banana bread was beyond tasty. I got the recipe. Okay, so I made the man do all the gross stuff, like touching and peeling the bananas, mashing and mixing them, but I did the rest (and da Boo helped by stirring a bowl of flour for 10 minutes). Had to make it acceptable by adding a quick chocolate glaze but it was very good. I even ate a piece.

But I'm still not eating a full banana. Not even one dipped in chocolate.